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THE 


DATS     OF    -BRUCE; 


tnnj 


SCOTTISH    HISTOEY 


BY 

GRACE  AGUILAR, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  HOME  INFLUENCE,"^"  THE  MOTHER'S  RECOMPENSE," 
"WOMAN'S  FRIENDSHIP,"  "THE  VALE  OF  CEDARS," 

ETC.   ETC. 


IN   TWO   VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW  YORK: 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 

MDCCCLII. 


PREFACE, 


As  these  pages  have  passed  through  the  press,  min- 
gled feelings  of  pain  and  pleasure  have  actuated  my 
heart.  Who  shall  speak  the  regret  that  she,  to  whom 
its  composition  was  a  work  of  love,  cannot  participate 
in  the  joy  which  its  publication  would  have  occasion- 
ed— who  shall  tell  of  that  anxious  pleasure  which  I  feel 
in  witnessing  the  success  of  each  and  all  the  efforts  of 
her  pen  ? 

THE  DAYS  OF  BBUCE  must  be  considered  as  an  en- 
deavor to  place  before  the  reader  an  interesting  nar- 
rative of  a  period  of  history,  in  itself  a  romance,  and 
one  perhaps  as  delightful  as  could  well  have  been  se- 
lected. In  combination  with  the  story  of  Scotland's 
brave  deliverer,  it  must  be  viewed  as  an  illustration 
of  female  character,  and  descriptive  of  much  that  its 
Author  considered  excellent  in  woman.  In  the  high- 
minded  Isabella  of  Buchan  is  traced  the  resignation 
of  a  heart  wounded  in  its  best  affections,  yet  trustful 
midst  accumulated  misery.  In  Isoline  may  be  seen 


VI  PREFACE. 

the  self-inflicted  unhappiness  of  a  too  confident  and 
self-reliant  nature ;  while  in  Agnes  is  delineated  the 
overwhelming  of  a  mind  too  much  akin  to  heaven  in 
purity  and  innocence  to  battle  with  the  stern  and  bitter 
sorrows  with  which  her  life  is  strewn. 

How  far  the  merits  of  this  work  may  be  perceived 
becomes  not  me  to  judge  ;  I  only  know  and  feel  that 
on  me  has  devolved  the  endearing  task  of  publishing 
the  writings  of  my  lamented  child — that  I  am  fulfilling 
the  desire  of  her  life. 

SAEAH  AGUILAK. 

May,  1852. 


THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  month  of  March,  rough  and  stormy  as  it  is  in  England, 
would  perhaps  be  deemed  mild  and  beautiful  as  May  by  those 
accustomed  to  meet  and  brave  its  fury  in  the  eastern  High- 
lands, nor  would  the  evening  on  which  our  tale  commences 
bely  its  wild  and  fitful  character. 

The  wind  howled  round  the  ancient  Tower  of  Buchan,  hi 
alternate  gusts  of  wailing  and  of  fury,  so  mingled  with  the 
deep,  heavy  roll  of  the  lashing  waves,  that  it  was  impossible 
to  distinguish  the  roar  of  the  one  element  from  the  howl  of  the 
other.  Neither  tree,  hill,  nor  wood  intercepted  the  rushing 
gale,  to  change  the  dull  monotony  of  its  gloomy  tone.  The 
Ythan,  indeed,  darted  by,  swollen  and  turbid  from  continued 
storms,  threatening  to  overflow  the  barren  plain  it  watered,  but 
its  voice  was  undistinguishable  amidst  the  louder  wail  of  wind 
and  ocean.  Pine-trees,  dark,  ragged,  and  stunted,  and  scat- 
tered so  widely  apart  that  each  one  seemed  monarch  of  some 
thirty  acres,  were  the  only  traces  of  vegetation  for  miles  round. 
Nor  were  human  habitations  more  abundant ;  indeed,  few  dwell- 
ings, save  those  of  such  solid  masonry  as  the  Tower  of  Buchan, 
could  hope  to  stand  scathless  amidst  the  storms  that  in  winter 
ever  swept  along  the  moor. 

No  architectural  beauty  distinguished  the  residence  of  the 
Earls  of  Buchan  ;  none  of  that  tasteful  decoration  peculiar  to 
the  Saxon,  nor  of  the  more  sombre  yet  more  imposing  style 
introduced  by  the  Norman,  and  known  as  the  Gothic  archi- 
tecture. 

•  Originally  a  hunting-lodge,  it  had  been  continually  enlarged 
by  succeeding  lords,  without  any  regard  either  to  symmetry  or 
proportion,  elegance  or  convenience ;  and  now,  early  in  the 


8  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

year  1306,  appeared  within  its  outer  walls  as  a  most  hetero- 
geneous mass  of  ill-shaped  turrets,  courts,  offices,  and  galleries, 
huddled  together  in  ill-sorted  confusion,  though  presenting  to 
the  distant  view  a  massive  square  building,  remarkable  only  for 
a  strength  and  solidity  capable  of  resisting  alike  the  war  of  ele- 
ments and  of  man. 

Without  all  seemed  a  dreary  wilderness,  but  within  existed 
indisputable  signs  of  active  life.  The  warlike  inhabitants  of 
the  tower,  though  comparatively  few  in  number,  were  contin- 
ually passing  to  and  fro  in  the  courts  and  galleries,  or  congre- 
gating in  little  knots,  in  eager  converse.  Some  cleansing  their 
armor  or  arranging  banners ;  others,  young  and  active,  prac- 
tising the  various  manoeuvres  of  mimic  war ;  each  and  all 
bearing  on  their  brow  that  indescribable  expression  of  antici- 
pation and  excitement  which  seems  ever  on  the  expectant  of 
it  knows  not  what.  The  condition  of  Scotland  was  indeed 
such  as  to  keep  her  sons  constantly  on  the  alert,  preparing  for 
defence  or  attack,  as  the  insurging  efforts  of  the  English  or 
the  commands  of  their  lords  should  determine.  From  the 
richest  noble  to  the  veriest  serf,  the  aged  man  to  the  little 
child,  however  contrary  their  politics  and  feelings,  one  spirit 
actuated  all,  and  that  spirit  was  war — war  in  all  its  deadliest 
evils,  its  unmitigated  horrors,  for  it  was  native  blood  which 
deluged  the  rich  plains,  the  smiling  vales,  and  fertile  hills  of 
Scotland. 

Although  the  castle  of  Buchan  resembled  more  a  citadel 
intended  for  the  accommodation  of  armed  vassals  than  the  com- 
modious dwelling  of  feudal  lords,  one  turret  gave  evidence,  by 
its  internal  arrangement,  of  a  degree  of  refinement  and  a  nearer 
approach  to  comfort  than  its  fellows,  and  seeming  to  proclaim 
that  within  its  massive  walls  the  lords  of  the  castle  were  ac- 
customed to  reside.  The  apartments  were  either  hung  with 
heavy  tapestry,  which  displayed,  in  gigantic  proportions,  the 
combats  of  the  Scots  and  Danes,  or  panelled  with  polished 
oak,  rivalling  ebony  in  its  glossy  blackness,  inlaid  with  solid 
silver.  Heavy  draperies  of  damask  fell  from  the  ceiling  to  the 
floor  at  every  window,  a  pleasant  guard,  indeed,  from  the  con- 
stant winds  which  found  entrance  through  many  creaks  and 
corners  of  the  Gothic  casements,  but  imparting  a  dingy  aspecj, 
to  apartments  lordly  in  their  dimensions,  and  somewhat  rich 
ia  decoration. 


THE  DAYS   OF   BKTTCE.  9 

The  deep  embrasures  of  the  casements  were  thus  in  a  man- 
ner severed  from  the  main  apartment,  for  even  when  the  cur- 
tains were  completely  lowered  there  was  space  enough  to  con- 
tain a  chair  or  two  and  a  table.  The  furniture  corresponded 
in  solidity  and  proportion  to  the  panelling  or  tapestry  of  the 
walls ;  nor  was  there  any  approach  even  at  those  doubtful 
comforts  already  introduced  in  the  more  luxurious  Norman  cas- 
tles of  South  Britain. 

The  group,  however,  assembled  in  one  of  these  ancient 
rooms  needed  not  the  aid  of  adventitious  ornament  to  betray 
the  nobility  of  birth,  and  those  exalted  and  chivalric  feelings 
inherent  to  their  rank.  The  sun,  whose  stormy  radiance  dur- 
ing the  day  had  alternately  deluged  earth  and  sky  with  fitful 
yet  glorious  brilliance,  and  then,  burying  itself  in  the  dark 
masses  of  overhanging  clouds,  robed  every  object  in  deepest 
gloom,  now  seemed  to  concentrate  his  departing  rays  in  one 
living  flood  of  splendor,  and  darting  within  the  chamber,  lin- 
gered in  crimson  glory  around  the  youthful  form  of  a  gentle 
girl,  dyeing  her  long  and  clustering  curls  with  gold.  Slightly 
bending  over  a  large  and  cumbrous  frame  which  supported  her 
embroidery,  her  attitude  could  no  more  conceal  the  grace  and 
lightness  of  her  childlike  form,  than  the  glossy  ringlets  the 
soft  and  radiant  features  which  they  shaded.  There  was  arch- 
ness lurking  in  those  dark  blue  eyes,  to  which  tears  seemed 
yet  a  stranger ;  the  clear  and  snowy  forehead,  the  full  red  lip, 
and  health-bespeaking  cheek  had  surely  seen  but  smiles,  and 
mirrored  but  the  joyous  light  which  tilled  her  gentle  heart. 
Her  figure  seemed  to  speak  a  child,  but  there  was  a  something 
in  that  face,  bright,  glowing  as  it  was,  which  yet  would  tell  of 
somewhat  more  than  childhood — that  seventeen  summers  had 
done  their  work,  and  taught  that  guileless  heart  a  sterner  tale 
than  gladness. 

A  young  man,  but  three  or  four  years  her  senior,  occupied 
an  embroidered  settle  at  her  feet.  In  complexion,  as  in  the 
color  of  his  hair  and  eyes,  there  was  similarity  between  them, 
but  the  likeness  went  no  further,  nor  would  the  most  casual 
observer  have  looked  on  them  as  kindred.  Fair  and  lovely  as 
the  maiden  would  even  have  been  pronounced,  it  was  perhaps 
more  the  expression,  the  sweet  innocence  that  characterized 
her  features  which  gave  to  them  their  charm  ;  but  in  the 
young  man  there  was  infinitely  more  than  this,  though  effem- 

1* 


10  THE   DATS   OF  BRUOE. 

inate  as  was  his  complexion,  and  the  bright  sunny  curls  which 
floated  over  his  throat,  he  was  eminently  and  indescribably 
beautiful,  for  it  was  the  mind,  the  glorious  mind,  the  kindling 
spirit  which  threw  their  radiance  over  his  perfect  features ; 
the  spirit  and  mind  which  that  noble  form  enshrined  stood 
apart,  and  though  he  knew  it  not  himself,  found  not  their 
equal  in  that  dark  period  of  warfare  and  of  woe.  The  sword 
and  lance  were  the  only  instruments  of  the  feudal  aristocracy  ; 
ambition,  power,  warlike  fame,  the  principal  occupants  of  their 
thoughts ;  the  chase,  the  tourney,  or  the  foray,  the  relaxation 
of  their  spirits.  But  unless  that  face  deceived,  there  was  more, 
much  more,  which  characterized  the  elder  youth  within  that 
chamber. 

A  large  and  antique  volume  of  Norse  legends  rested  on  his 
knee,  which,  in  a  rich,  manly  voice,  he  was  reading  aloud  to 
his  companion,  diversifying  his  lecture  with  remarks  and  ex- 
planations, which,  from  the  happy  smiles  and  earnest  attention 
of  the  maiden,  appeared  to  impart  the  pleasure  intended  by 
the  speaker.  The  other  visible  inhabitant  of  the  apartment 
was  a  noble-looking  boy  of  about  fifteen,  far  less  steadily  em- 
ployed than  his  companions,  for  at  one  time  he  was  poising  a 
heavy  lance,  and  throwing  himself  into  the  various  attitudes  of 
a  finished  warrior ;  at  others,  brandished  a  two-handed  sword, 
somewhat  taller  than  himself;  then  glancing  over  the  shoul- 
der of  his  sister — for  so  nearly  was  he  connected  with  the 
maiden,  though  the  raven  curls,  the  bright  flashing  eye  of  jet, 
and  darker  skin,  appeared  to  forswear  such  near  relationship — 
criticising  her  embroidery,  and  then  transferring  his  scrutiny 
to  the  strange  figures  on  the  gorgeously-illuminated  manu- 
script, and  then  for  a  longer  period  listening,  as  it  were,  irre- 
sistibly to  the  wild  legends  which  that  deep  voice  was  so  me- 
lodiously pouring  forth. 

"  It  will  never  do,  Agnes.  You  cannot  embroider  the  cor- 
onation of  Kenneth  MacAlpine  and  listen  to  these  wild  tales 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  Look  at  your  clever  pupil,  Sir  Ni- 
gel ;  she  is  placing  a  heavy  iron  buckler  on  the  poor  king's 
head  instead  of  his  golden  crown."  The  boy  laughed  kmo- 
and  merrily  as  he  spoke,  and  even  Sir  Nigel  smiled  ;  while 
Agnes,  blushing  and  confused,  replied,  half  jestingly  and  half 
earnestly,  •'  And  why  not  tell  me  of  it  before,  Alan  ?  you  must 
have  seen  it  long  ago." 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  11 

"  And  so  I  did,  sweet  sister  mine ;  but  I  wished  to  see  the 
effect  of  such  marvellous  abstraction,  and  whether,  in  case  of 
necessity,  an  iron  shield  would  serve  our  purpose  as  well  as  a 
jewelled  diadem." 

"  Never  fear,  my  boy.  Let  but  the  king  stand  forth,  and 
there  will  be  Scottish  men  enow  and  willing  to  convert  an  iron 
buckler  into  a  goodly  crown ;"  and  as  Sir  Nigel  spoke  his  eyes 
flashed,  and  his  whole  countenance  irradiated  with  a  spirit  that 
might  not  have  been  suspected  when  in  the  act  of  reading,  but 
which  evidently  only  slept  till  awakened  by  an  all-sufficient 
call.  "  Let  the  tyrant  Edward  exult  in  the  possession  of  our 
country's  crown  and  sceptre — he  may  find  we  need  not  them 
to  make  a  king ;  aye,  and  a  king  to  snatch  the  regal  diadem 
from  the  proud  usurper's  brow — the  Scottish  sceptre  from  his 
blood-stained  hands !" 

"  Thou  talkest  wildly,  Nigel,"  answered  the  lad,  sorrowfully, 
his  features  assuming  an  expression  of  judgment  and  feeling 
beyond  his  years.  "Who  is  there  in  Scotland  will  do  this 
thing  ?  who  will  dare  again  the  tyrant's  rage  ?  Is  not  this  un- 
happy country  divided  within  itself,  and  how  may  it  resist  the 
foreign  foe  ?" 

"  Wallace  !  think  of  Wallace  !  Did  he  not  well-nigh  wrest 
our  country  from  the  tyrant's  hands  ?  And  is  there  not  one  to 
follow  in  the  path  he  trod — no  noble  heart  to  do  what  he  hath 
done  ?" 

"  Nigel,  yes.  Let  but  the  rightful  king  stand  forth,  and 
were  there  none  other,  I — even  I,  stripling  as  I  am,  with  my 
good  sword  and  single  arm,  even  with  the  dark  blood  of  Comyn 
in  my  veins,  Alan  of  Buchan,  would  join  him,  aye,  and  die  for 
him  f" 

"  There  spoke  the  blood  of  Duff,  and  not  of  Comyn !"  burst 
impetuously  from  the  lips  of  Nigel,  as  he  grasped  the  strip- 
ling's ready  hand  ;  "  and  doubt  not,  noble  boy,  there  are  other 
hearts  in  Scotland  bold  and  true  as  thine  ;  and  even  as  Wallace, 
one  will  yet  arise  to  wake  them  from  their  stagnant  sleep,  and 
give  them  freedom." 

"Wallace,"  said  the  maiden,  fearfully ;  "ye  talk  of  Wallace, 
of  his  bold  deeds  and  bolder  heart,  but  bethink  ye  of  his  fate. 
Oh,  were  it  not  better  to  be  still  than  follow  in  his  steps  unto 
the  scaffold  ?" 

"  Dearest,  no ;  better  the  scaffold  and  the  axe,  aye,  even  the 


12  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

iron  chains  and  hangman's  cord,  than  the  gilded  fetters  of  a 
tyrant's  yoke.  Shame  on  thee,  sweet  Agnes,  to  counsel 
thoughts  as  these,  and  thou  a  Scottish  maiden."  Yet  even  as 
he  spoke  chidingly,  the  voice  of  Nigel  became  soft  and  thril- 
ling, even  as  it  had  before  been  bold  and  daring. 

"  I  fear  me,  Nigel,  I  have  but  little  of  my  mother's  blood 
within  my  veins.  I  cannot  bid  them  throb  and  bound  as  hers 
with  patriotic  love  and  warrior  fire.  A  lowly  cot  with  him  I 
loved  were  happiness  for  me." 

"  But  that  cot  must  rest  upon  a  soil  unchained,  sweet  Agnes, 
or  joy  could  have  no  resting  there.  Wherefore  did  Scotland 
rise  against  her  tyrant — why  struggle  as  she  hath  to  fling  aside 
her  chains  ?  Was  it  her  noble  sons  ?  Alas,  alas !  degenerate 
and  base,  they  sought  chivalric  fame ;  forgetful  of  their  coun- 
try, they  asked  for  knighthood  from  proud  Edward's  hand, 
regardless  that  that  hand  had  crowded  fetters  on  their  father- 
land, and  would  enslave  their  sons.  Not  to  them  did  Scotland 
owe  the  transient  gleam  of  glorious  light  which,  though  extin- 
guished in  the  patriot's  blood,  hath  left  its  trace  behind.  With 
the  bold,  the  hardy,  lowly  Scot  that  gleam  had  birth ;  they 
would  be  free  to  them.  What  mattered  that  their  tyrant  was 
a  valiant  knight,  a  worthy  son  of  chivalry :  they  saw  but  an 
usurper,  an  enslaver,  and  they  rose  and  spurned  his  smiles — 
aye,  and  they  will  rise  again.  And  wert  thou  one  of  them, 
sweet  girl,  a  cotter's  wife,  thou  too  wouldst  pine  for  freedom. 
Yes ;  Scotland  will  bethink  her  of  her  warrior's  fate,  and  shout 
aloud  revenge  for  Wallace !" 

Either  his  argument  was  unanswerable,  or  the  energy  of  his 
voice  and  manner  carried  conviction  with  them,  but  a  brighter 
glow  mantled  the  maiden's  cheek,  and  with  it  stole  the  momen- 
tary shame — the  wish,  the  simple  words  that  she  had  spoken 
could  be  recalled. 

"  Give  us  but  a  king  for  whom  to  fight — a  king  to  love,  re- 
vere, obey— a  king  from  whose  hand  knighthood  were  an  hon- 
or, precious  as  life  itself,  and  there  are  noble  hearts  enough  to 
swear  fealty  to  him,  and  bright  swords  ready  to  defend  his 
throne,"  said  the  young  heir  of  Buchan,  as  he  brandished  his 
own  weapon  above  his  head,  and  then  rested  his  arms  upon  its 
broad  hilt,  despondingly.  "But  where  is  that  king?  Men 
speak  of  my  most  gentle  kinsman  Sir  John  Comyn,  called  the 
Ked— bah !  The  sceptre  were  the  same  jewelled  bauble  in  his 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE..  13 

impotent  hand  as  in  his  sapient  uncle's ;  a  gem,  a  toy,  forsooth, 
the  loan  of  crafty  Edward.  No!  the  Red  Comyn  is  no  king 
for  Scotland  ;  and  who  is  there  besides  ?  The  rightful  heir — a 
cold,  dull-blooded  neutral — a  wild  and  wavering  changeling. 
I  pray  thee  be  not  angered,  Nigel ;  it  cannot  be  gainsaid,  e'en 
though  he  is  thy  brother." 

"  I  know  it  Alan ;  know  it  but  too  well,"  answered  Nigel, 
sadly,  though  the  dark  glow  rushed  up  to  cheek  and  brow. 
"  Yet  Robert's  blood  is  hot  enough.  His  deeds  are  plunged  in 
mystery — his  words  not  less  so ;  yet  I  cannot  look  on  him  as 
thou  dost,  as,  alas !  too  many  do.  It  may  be  that  I  love  him 
all  too  well ;  that  dearer  even  than  Edward,  than  all  the  rest, 
has  Robert  ever  been  to  me.  He  knows  it  not ;  for,  sixteen 
years  my  senior,  he  has  ever  held  me  as  a  child  taking  little 
heed  of  his  wayward  course ;  and  yet  my  heart  has  throbbed 
beneath  his  word,  his  look,  as  if  he  were  not  what  he  seemed, 
but  would — but  must  be  something  more." 

"  I  ever  thought  thee  but  a  wild  enthusiast,  gentle  Nigel, 
and  this  confirms  it.  Mystery,  aye,  such  mystery  as  ever 
springs  from  actions  at  variance  with  reason,  judgment,  valor 
— with  all  that  frames  the  patriot.  Would  that  thou  wert  the 
representative  of  thy  royal  line ;  wert  thou  in  Earl  Robert's 
place,  thus,  thus  would  Alan  kneel  to  thee  and  hail  thee  king !" 

"  Peace,  peace,  thou  foolish  boy,  the  crown  and  sceptre  have 
no  charm  for  me ;  let  me  but  see  my  country  free,  the  tyrant 
humbled,  my  brother  as  my  trusting  spirit  whispers  he  shall 
be,  and  Nigel  asks  no  more." 

"  Art  thou  indeed  so  modest,  gentle  Nigel — is  thy  happiness 
so  distinct  from  self  ?  thine  eyes  tell  other  tales  sometimes,  and 
speak  they  false,  fair  sir  ? 

Timidly,  yet  irresistibly,  the  maiden  glanced  up  from  her 
embroidery,  but  the  gaze  that  met  hers  caused  those  bright 
eyes  to  fall  more  quickly  than  they  were  raised,  and  vainly  for 
a  few  seconds  did  she  endeavor  so  to  steady  her  hand  as  to  re- 
sume her  task.  Nigel  was,  however,  spared  reply,  for  a  sharp 
and  sudden  bugle-blast  reverberated  through  the  tower,  and 
with  an  exclamation  of  wondering  inquiry  Alan  bounded  from 
the  chamber.  There  was  one  other  inmate  of  that  apartment, 
whose  presence,  although  known  and  felt,  had,  as  was  evident, 
been  no  restraint  either  to  the  employments  or  the  sentiments 
of  the  two  youths  and  their  companion.  Their  conversation 


14  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

had  not  passed  unheeded,  although  it  had  elicited  no  comment 
or  rejoinder.  The  Countess  of  Buchan  stood  within  one  of 
those  deep  embrasures  we  have  noticed,  at  times  glancing  to- 
wards the  youthful  group  with  an  earnestness  of  sorrowing 
affection  that  seemed  to  have  no  measure  in  its  depth,  no  shrink- 
ino-  in  its  might ;  at  others,  fixing  a  long,  unmeaning,  yet  some- 
what anxious  gaze  on  the  wide  plain  and  distant  ocean,  which 
the  casement  overlooked. 

It  was  impossible  to  look  once  on  the  countenance  of  Isabella 
of  Buchan,  and  yet  forbear  to  look  again.  The  calm  dignity, 
the  graceful  majesty  of  her  figure  seemed  to  mark  her  as  one 
bora  to  command,  to  hold  in  willing  homage  the  minds  and  in- 
clinations of  men ;  her  pure,  pale  brow  and  marble  cheek — for 
the  rich  rose  seemed  a  stranger  there — the  long  silky  lash  of 
jet,  the  large,  full,  black  eye,  in  its  repose  so  soft  that  few 
would  guess  how  it  could  flash  fire,  and  light  up  those  classic 
features  with  power  to  stir  the  stagnant  souls  of  thousands  and 
guide  them  with  a  word.  She  looked  in  feature  as  in  form  a 
queen ;  fitted  to  be  beloved,  formed  to  be  obeyed.  Her  heavy 
robe  of  dark  brocade,  wrought  with  thick  threads  of  gold, 
seemed  well  suited  to  her  majestic  form  ;  its  long,  loose  folds 
detracting  naught  from  the  graceful  ease  of  her  carriage.  Her 
thick,  glossy  hair,  vying  in  its  rich  blackness  with  the  raven's 
wing,  was  laid  in  smooth  bands  upon  her  stately  brow,  and 
gathered  up  behind  in  a  careless  knot,  confined  with  a  bodkin 
of  massive  gold.  The  hood  or  coif,  formed  of  curiously  twisted 
black  and  golden  threads,  which  she  wore  in  compliance  with 
the  Scottish  custom,  that  thus  made  the  distinction  between 
the  matron  and  the  maiden,  took  not  from  the  peculiarly  grace- 
ful form  of  the  head,  nor  in  any  part  concealed  the  richness  of 
the  hair.  Calm  and  pensive  as  was  the  general  expression  of 
her  countenance,  few  could  look  upon  it  without  that  peculiar 
sensation  of  respect,  approaching  to  awe,  which  restrained  and 
conquered  sorrow  ever  calls  for.  Perchance  the  cause  of  such 
emotion  was  all  too  delicate,  too  deeply  veiled  to  be  defined  by 
those'  rude  hearts  who  were  yet  conscious  of  its  existence ;  and 
for  them  it  was  enough  to  own  her  power,  bow  before  it,  and 
fear  her  as  a  being  set  apart. 

Musingly  she  had  stood  looking  forth  on  the  wide  waste ; 
the  distant  ocean,  whose  tumbling  waves  one  moment  gleamed 
m  living  light,  at  others  immersed  in  inky  blackness,  were 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  15 

scarcely  distinguished  from  the  lowering  sky.  The  moaning 
winds  swept  by,  bearing  the  storm-cloud  on  their  wings ; 
patches  of  blue  gleamed  strangely  and  brightly  forth ;  and,  far 
in  the  west,  crimson  and  amber,  and  pink  and  green,  inlaid  in 
beautiful  mosaic  the  departing  luminary's  place  of  rest. 

"  Alas,  my  gentle  one,"  she  had  internally  responded  to  her 
daughter's  words,  "  if  thy  mother's  patriot  heart  could  find  no 
shield  for  woe,  nor  her  warrior  fire,  as  thou  deemest  it,  guard 
her  from  woman's  trials,  what  will  be  thy  fate  ?  This  is  no 
time  for  happy  love,  for  peaceful  joys,  returned  as  it  may  be ; 
for — may  I  doubt  that  truthful  brow,  that  knightly  soul  (her 
glance  was  fixed  on  Nigel) — yet  not  now  may  the  Scottish 
knight  find  rest  and  peace  in  woman's  love.  And  better  is  it 
thus — the  land  of  the  slave  is  no  home  for  love." 

A  faint  yet  a  beautiful  smile,  dispersing  as  a  momentary  beam 
the  anxiety  stamped  on  her  features,  awoke  at  the  enthusiastic 
reply  of  Nigel.  Then  she  turned  again  to  the  casement,  for 
her  quick  eye  had  discerned  a  party  of  about  ten  horsemen  ap- 
proaching in  the  direction  of  the  tower,  and  on  the  summons  of 
the  bugle  she  advanced  from  her  retreat  to  the  centre  of  the 
apartment. 

"  Why,  surely  thou  art  but  a  degenerate  descendant  of  the 
brave  Macduff,  mine  Agnes,  that  a  bugle  blast  should  thus  send- 
back  every  drop  of  blood  to  thy  little  heart,"  she  said,  play- 
fully. "For  shame,  for  shame!  how  art  thou  fitted  to  be 
a  warrior's  bride?  They  are  but  Scottish  men,  and  true, 
methinks,  if  I  recognize  their  leader  rightly.  And  it  is  even 
so." 

"Sir  Robert  Keith,  right  welcome,"  she  added,  as,  mar- 
shalled by  young  Alan,  the  knight  appeared,  bearing  his 
plumed  helmet  in  his  hand,  and  displaying  haste  and  eager- 
ness alike  in  his  flushed  features  and  soiled  armor. 

"  Ye  have  ridden  long  and  hastily.  Bid  them  hasten  our 
evening  meal,  my  son ;  or  stay,  perchance  Sir  Robert  needs 
thine  aid  to  rid  him  of  this  garb  of  war.  Thou  canst  not  serve 
one  nobler." 

"  Nay,  noble  lady,  knights  must  don,  not  doff  their  armor 
now.  I  bring  ye  news,  great,  glorious  news,  which  will  not 
brook  delay.  A  royal  messenger  I  come,  charged  by  his  grace 
my  king — my  country's  king — with  missives  to  his  friends,  call- 
ing on  all  who  spurn  a  tyrant's  yoke — who  love  their  land, 


1(3  THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

their  homes,  their  freedom— on  all  who^wish  for  Wallace— to 
awake,  arise,  and  join  their  patriot  king !" 

"  Of  whom  speakest  thou,  Sir  Robert  Keith  ?  I  charge  thee, 
speak !"  exclaimed  Nigel,  starting  from  the  posture  of  dignified 
reserve  with  which  he  had  welcome^  the  knight,  and  springing 
towards  him. 

"  The  patriot  and  the  king  ! — of  whom  canst  thou  speak  ? 
said  Alan,  at  the  same  instant.     "Thine  are,  in  very  truth, 
marvellous  tidings,  Sir  Knight ;  an'  thou  canst  call  up  one  to 
unite  such  names,  and  worthy  of  them,  he  shall  not  call  on  me 
in  vain." 

"  Is  he  not  worthy,  Alan  of  Buchan,  who  thus  flings  down 
the  gauntlet,  who  thus  dares  the  fury  of  a  mighty  sovereign, 
and  with  a  handful  of  brave  men  prepares  to  follow  in  the  steps 
of  Wallace,  to  the  throne  or  to  the  scaffold  ?" 

"  Heed  not  my  reckless  boy,  Sir  Robert,"  said  the  countess, 
earnestly,  as  the  eyes  of  her  son  fell  beneath  the  knight's  glance 
of  fiery  reproach ;  "  no  heart  is  truer  to  his  country,  no  arm 
more  eager  to  rise  in  her  defence." 

"The  king!  the  king!"  gasped  Nigel,  some  strange  over- 
mastering emotion  checking  his  utterance.  "  Who  is  it  that 
has  thus  dared,  thus — " 

"  And  canst  thou  too  ask,  young  sir  ?"  returned  the  knight, 
with  a  smile  of  peculiar  meaning.  "  Is  thy  sovereign's  name 
unknown  to  thee  ?  Is  Robert  Bruce  a  name  unknown,"  unheard, 
unloved,  that  thou,  too,  breathest  it  not  ?" 

"  My  brother,  my  brave,  my  noble  brother ! — I  saw  it,  I 
knew  it !  Thou  wert  no  changeling,  no  slavish  neutral ;  but 
even  as  I  felt,  thou  art,  thou  wilt  be !  My  brother,  my  brother, 
I  may  live  and  die  for  thee !"  and  the  young  enthusiast  raised 
his  clasped  hands  above  his  head,  as  in  speechless  thanksgiving 
for  these  strange,  exciting  news ;  his  flushed  cheek,  his  quiver- 
ing lip,  his  moistened  eye  betraying  an  emotion  which  seemed 
for  the  space  of  a  moment  to  sink  on  the  hearts  of  all  who  wit- 
nessed it,  and  hush  each  feeling  into  silence.  A  shout  from 
the  court  below  broke  that  momentary  pause. 

"  God  save  King  Robert !  then,  say  I,"  vociferated  Alan, 
eagerly  grasping  the  knight's  hand.  "  Sit,  sit,  Sir  Knight ;  and 
for  the  love  of  heaven,  speak  more  of  this  most  wondrous  tale. 
Erewhile,  we  hear  of  this  goodly  Earl  of  Carrick  at  Edward's 
court,  doing  him  homage,  serving  him  as  his  own  English 


THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  17 

knight,  and  now  in  Scotland — aye,  and  Scotland's  king.  How 
may  we  reconcile  these  contradictions  ?" 

"  Rather  how  did  he  vanish  from  the  tyrant's  hundred  eyes, 
and  leave  the  court  of  England  ?"  inquired  Nigel,  at  the  same 
instant  as  the  Countess  of  Buchan  demanded,  somewhat  anx- 
iously— 

"  And  Sir  John  Comyn,  recognizes  he  our  sovereign's  claim  ? 
Is  he  amongst  the  Brace's  slender  train  ?" 

A  dark  cloud  gathered  on  the  noble  brow  of  the  knight, 
replacing  the  chivalric  courtesy  with  which  he  had  hitherto 
responded  to  his  interrogators.  He  paused  ere  he  answered, 
in  a  stern,  deep  voice — 

"Sir  John  Comyn  lived  and  died  a  traitor,  lady.  He  hath 
received  the  meed  of  his  base  treachery ;  his  traitorous  design 
for  the  renewed  slavery  of  his  country — the  imprisonment  and 
death  of  the  only  one  that  stood  forth  in  her  need." 

"  And  by  whom  did  the  traitor  die  ?"  fiercely  demanded  the 
young  heir  of  Buchan.  "  Mother,  thy  cheek  is  blanched ;  yet 
wherefore  ?  Comyn  as  I  am,  shall  we  claim  kindred  with  a 
traitor,  and  turn  away  from  the  good  cause,  because,  forsooth,  a 
traitorous  Comyn  dies  ?  No ;  were  the  Bruce's  own  right  hand 
red  with  the  recreant's  blood — he  only  is  the  Comyn's  king." 

"  Thou  hast  said  it,  youthful  lord,"  said  the  knight,  impres- 
sively. "Alan  of  Buchan,  bear  that  bold  heart  and  patriot 
sword  unto  the  Bruce's  throne,  and  Comyn's  traitorous  name 
shall  be  forgotten  in  the  scion  of  Macduff.  Thy  mother's  loyal 
blood  runs  reddest  in  thy  veins,  young  sir ;  too  pure  for  Comyn's 
base  alloy.  Know,  then,  the  Bruce's  hand  is  red  with  the  trait- 
or's blood,  and  yet,  fearless  and  firm  in  the  holy  justice  of  his 
cause,  he  calls  on  his  nobles  and  their  vassals  for  their  homage 
and  their  aid — he  calls  on  them  to  awake  from  their  long  sleep, 
and  shake  off  the  iron  yoke  from  their  necks ;  to  prove  that 
Scotland — the  free,  the  dauntless,  the  unconquered  soil,  which 
once  spurned  the  Roman  power,  to  which  all  other  kingdoms 
bowed — is  free,  undaunted,  and  unconquered  still.  He  calls 
aloud,  aye,  even  on  ye,  wife  and  son  of  Comyn  of  Buchan,  to 
snap  the  link  that  binds  ye  to  a  traitor's  house,  and  prove — 
though  darkly,  basely  flows  the  blood  of  Macduff  in  one  de- 
scendant's veins,  that  the  Earl  of  Fife  refuses  homage  and  alle- 
giance to  his  sovereign — in  ye  it  rushes  free,  and  bold,  and 
loyal  still." 


18  THE   DAYS   OF  BKTJCE. 

"And  he  shall  find  it  so.  Mother,  why  do  ye  not  speak? 
You,  from  whose  lips  ray  heart  first  learnt  to  beat  for  Scotland  ; 
my  lips  to  pray  that  one  might  come  to  save  her  from  the  yoke 
of  tyranny.  You,  who  taught  me  to  forget  all  private  feud,  to 
merge  all  feeling,  every  claim,  in  the  one  great  hope  of  Scot- 
land's freedom.  Now  that  the  time  is  come,  wherefore  art  thpu 
thus  ?  Mother,  my  own  noble  mother,  let  me  go  forth  with 
thy  blessing  on  my  path,  and  ill  and  woe  can  come  not  near 
me.  Speak  to  thy  son !"  The  undaunted  boy  flung  himself 
on  his  knee  before  the  countess  as  he  spoke.  There  was  a 
dark  and  fearfully  troubled  expression  on  her  noble  features. 
She  had  clasped  her  hands  together,  as  if  to  still  or  hide  their 
unwonted  trembling ;  but  when  she  looked  on  those  bright  and 
glowing  features,  there  came  a  dark,  dread  vision  of  blood,  and 
the  axe  and  cord,  and  she  folded  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
sobbed  in  all  a  mother's  irrepressible  agony. 

"  My  own,  my  beautiful,  to  what  have  I  doomed  thee  !"  she 
cried.  "  To  death,  to  woe !  aye,  perchance,  to  that  heaviest 
woe — a  father's  curse !  exposing  thee  to  death,  to  the  ills  of  all 
who  dare  to  strike  for  freedom.  Alan,  Alan,  how  can  I  bid 
thee  forth  to  death  ?  and  yet  it  is  I  have  taught  thee  to  love  it 
better  than  the  safety  of  a  slave  ;  longed,  prayed  for  this  mo- 
ment— deemed  that  for  my  country  I  could  even  give  my  child 
— and  now,  now — oh  God  of  mercy,  give  me  strength !" 

She  bent  down  her  head  on  his,  clasping  him  to  her  heart, 
as  thus  to  still  the  tempest  which  had  whelmed  it.  There  is 
something  terrible  in  that  strong  emotion  which  sometimes  sud- 
denly and  unexpectedly  overpowers  the  calmest  and  most  con- 
trolled natures.  It  speaks  of  an  agony  so  measureless,  so  be- 
yond the  relief  of  sympathy,  that  it  falls  like  an  electric  spell 
on  the  hearts  of  all  witnesses,  sweeping  all  minor  passions  into 
dust  before  it.  Little  accustomed  as  was  Sir  Robert  Keith  to 
sympathize  in  such  emotions,  he  now  turned  hastily  aside,  and, 
as  if  fearing  to  trust  himself  in  silence,  commenced  a  hurried 
detail  to  Nigel  Bruce  of  the  Earl  of  Carrick's  escape  from  Lon- 
don, and  his  present  position.  The  young  nobleman  endeav- 
ored to  confine  his  attention  to  the  subject,  but  his  eyes  would 
wander  in  the  direction  of  Agnes,  who,  terrified  at  emotions 
which  in  her  mother  she  had  never  witnessed  before,  was  kneel- 
ing in  tears  beside  her  brother. 

A  strong  convulsive  shuddering  passed  over  the  bowed  frame 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  19 

of  Isabella  of  Buchan ;  then  she  lifted  up  her  head,  and  all 
traces  of  emotion  had  passed  from  her  features.  Silently  she 
pressed  her  lips  on  the  fair  brows  of  her  children  alternately, 
and  her  voice  faltered  not  as  she  bade  them  rise  and  heed 
her  not. 

"  We  will  speak  further  of  this  anon,  Sir  Robert,"  she  said, 
so  calmly  that  the  knight  started.  "Hurried  and  important 
as  I  deem  your  mission,  the  day  is  too  far  spent  to  permit  of 
your  departure  until  the  morrow ;  you  will  honor  our  evening 
meal,  and  this  true  Scottish  tower  for  a  night's  lodging,  and 
then  we  can  have  leisure  for  discourse  on  the  weighty  matters 
you  have  touched  upon."  , 

She  bowed  courteously,  as  she  turned  with  a  slow,  unfalter- 
ing step  to  leave  the  room.  Her  resumed  dignity  recalled  the 
bewildered  senses  of  her  son,  and,  with  graceful  courtesy,  he 
invited  the  knight  to  follow  him,  and  choose  his  lodging  for 
the  night. 

"  Agnes,  mine  own  Agnes,  now,  indeed,  may  I  win  thee," 
whispered  Nigel,  as  tenderly  he  folded  his  arm  round  her,  and 
looked  fondly  in  her  face.  "  Scotland  shall  be  free  !  her  tyrants 
banished  by  her  patriot  king ;  and  then,  then  may  not  Nigel 
Bruce  look  to  this  little  hand  as  his  reward  ?  Shall  not,  may 
not  the  thought  of  thy  pure,  gentle  love  be  mine,  in  the  tented 
field  and  battle's  roar,  urging  me  on,  even  should  all  other 
voice  be  hushed  ?" 

"  Forgettest  thou  I  am  a  Comyn,  Nigel  ?  That  the  dark 
stain  of  traitor,  of  disloyalty  is  withering  on  our  line,  and  wider 
and  wider  grows  the  barrier  between  us  and  the  Bruce  ?"  The 
voice  of  the  maiden  was  choked,  her  bright  eyes  dim  with  tears. 

"  All,  all  I  do  forget,  save  that  thou  art  mine  own  sweet 
love ;  and  though  thy  name  is  Comyn,  thy  heart  is  all  Macduff. 
Weep  not,  my  Agnes  ;  thine  eyes  were  never  framed  for  tears. 
Bright  times  for  us  and  Scotland  are  yet  in  store  !" 


CHAPTER    II. 

FOR  the  better  comprehension  of  the  events  related  in  the 
preceding  chapter,   it  will   be  necessary   to  cast  a  summary 


20 

glance  on  matters  of  historical  and  domestic  import  no  way 
irrelevant  to  our  subject,  save  and  except  their  having  taken 
place  some  few  years  previous  to  the  commencement  of  our 

tale 

The  early  years  of  Isabella  of  Buchan  had  been  passed  in 
happiness.  The  only  daughter,  indeed  for  seven  years  the 
only  child,  of  Malcolm,  Earl  of  Fife,  deprived  of  her  mother 
on  the  birth  of  her  brother,  her  youth  had  been  nursed  in  a 
tenderness  and  care  uncommon  in  those  rude  ages ;  and  yet, 
from  being  constantly  with  her  father,  she  imbibed  those  higher 
qualities  of  mind  which  so  ably  fitted  her  for  the  part  which  in 
after  years  it  was  her  lot  to  play.  The  last  words  of  his  de- 
'  voted  wife,  imploring  him  to  educate  her  child  himself,  and  not 
to  sever  the  tie  between  them,  by  following  the  example  of  his 
compeers,  and  sending  her  either  to  England,  France,  or  Nor- 
way, had  been  zealously  observed  by  the  earl ;  the  prosperous 
calm,  which  was  the  happy  portion  of  Scotland  during  the 
latter  years  of  Alexander  III.,  whose  favorite  minister  he  was, 
enabled  him  to  adhere  to  her  wishes  far  more  successfully  than 
could  have  been  the  case  had  he  been  called  forth  to  war. 

In  her  father's  castle,  then,  were  the  first  thirteen  years  of 
the  Lady  Isabella  spent,  varied  only  by  occasional  visits  to  the 
court  of  Alexander,  where  her  beauty  and  vivacity  rendered 
her  a  universal  favorite.     Descended  from  one  of  the  most  an- 
cient Scottish  families,  whose  race  it  was  their  boast  had  never 
been  adulterated  by  the  blood  of  a  foreigner,  no  Norman  pre- 
judice intermingled  with  the  education  of  Isabella,  to  tarnish 
in  any  degree  those  principles  of  loyalty  and  patriotism  which 
her  father,  the  Earl  of  Fife,  so  zealously  inculcated.     She  was 
a  more  true,  devoted  Scottish  woman  at  fourteen,  than  many 
of  her  own  rank  whose  years  might  double  hers  ;  ready  even 
then  to  sacrifice  even  life  itself,  were  it  called  for  in  defence  of 
her  sovereign,  or  the  freedom  of  her  country ;  and  when,  on 
the  death  of  Alexander,  clouds  began  to  darken  the  horizon  of 
Scotland,  her  father  scrupled  not  to  impart  to  her,  child  though 
she  seemed,  those  fears  and  anxieties  which  clouded  his  brow, 
and  filled  his  spirit  with  foreboding  gloom.     It  was  then  that 
in  her  flashing  eye  and  lofty  soul,  in  the  undaunted  spirit, 
which  bore  a  while  even  his  colder  and  more  foreseeing  mood 
along  with  it,  that  he  traced  the  fruit  whose  seed  he  had  so 
carefully  sown. 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  21 

"  Why  should  you  fear  for  Scotland,  my  father  ?"  she  would 
urge  ;  "  is  it  because  her  queen  is  but  a  child  and  now  far  dis- 
tant, that  anarchy  and  gloom  shall  enfold  our  land  ?  Is  it  not 
shame  in  ye  thus  craven  to  deem  her  sons,  when  in  thy  own 
breast  so  much  devotion  and  loyalty  have  rest  ?  why  not  judge 
others  by  yourself,  my  father,  and  know  the  dark  things  of 
which  ye  dream  can  never  be  ?" 

"  Thou  speakest  as  the  enthusiast  thou  art,  my  child.  Yet 
it  is  not  the  rule  of  our  maiden  queen  my  foreboding  spirit 
dreads  ;  'tis  that  on  such  a  slender  thread  as  her  young  life 
suspends  the  well-doing  or  the  ruin  of  her  kingdom.  If  she 
be  permitted  to  live  and  reign  over  us,  all  may  be  well ;  'tis  on 
the  event  of  her  death  for  which  I  tremble." 

"  Wait  till  the  evil  day  cometh  then,  my  father  ;  bring  it  not 
nearer  by  anticipation ;  and  should  indeed  such  be,  thinkest 
thou  not  there  are  bold  hearts  and  loyal  souls  to  guard  our  land 
from  foreign  foe,  and  give  the  rightful  heir  his  due  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  Isabella.  There  remain  but  few  with  the  pure 
Scottish  blood  within  their  veins,  and  it  is  but  to  them  our  land 
is  so  dear :  they  would  peril  life  and  limb  in  her  defence.  It 
is  not  to  the  proud  baron  descended  from  the  intruding  Nor- 
man, and  thinking  only  of  his  knightly  sports  and  increase  of 
wealth,  by  it  matters  not  what  war.  Nor  dare  we  look  with 
confidence  to  the  wild  chiefs  of  the  north  and  the  Lords  of  the 
Isles  ;  eager  to  enlarge  their  own  dominions,  to  extend  the  ter- 
rors of  their  name,  they  will  gladly  welcome  the  horrors  and 
confusion  that  may  arise ;  and  have  we  true  Scottish  blood 
enough  to  weigh  against  these,  my  child  ?  Alas !  Isabella, 
our  only  hope  is  in  the  health  and  well-doing  of  our  queen, 
precarious  as  that  is  ;  but  if  she  fail  us,  woe  to  Scotland  !" 

The  young  Isabella  could  not  bring  forward  any  solid  argu- 
ments in  answer  to  this  reasoning,  and  therefore  she  was  silent ; 
but  she  felt  her  Scottish  blood  throb  quicker  in  her  veins,  as 
he  spoke  of  the  few  pure  Scottish  men  remaining,  and  inwardly 
vowed,  woman  as  she  was,  to  devote  both  energy  and  life  to 
her  country  and  its  sovereign. 

Unhappily  for  his  children,  though  perhaps  fortunately  for 
himself,  the  Earl  of  Fife  was  spared  the  witnessing  in  the  mis- 
eries of  his  country  how  true  had  been  his  forebodings.  Two 
years  after  the  death  of  his  king,  he  was  found  dead  in  his 
bed,  not  without  strong  suspicion  of  poison.  Public  rumor 


22  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

pointed  to  his  uncle,  Macduff  of  Glamis,  as  the  instigator,  if 
not  the  actual  perpetrator  of  the  deed  ;  but  as  no  decided  proof 
could  be  alleged  against  him,  and  the  High  Courts  of  Scotland 
not  seeming  inclined  to  pursue  the  investigation,  the  rumor  ceas- 
ed, and  Macduff  assumed,  with  great  appearance  of  zeal,  the 
guardianship  of  the  young  Earl  of  Fife  and  his  sister,  an  office  be- 
queathed to  him  under  the  hand  and  seal  of  the  earl,  his  nephew. 

The  character  of  the  Lady  Isabella  was  formed  ;  that  of  her 
brother,  a  child  of  eight,  of  course  was  not ;  and  the  deep, 
voiceless  suffering  her  father's  loss  occasioned  her  individually 
was  painfully  heightened  by  the  idea  that  to  her  young  broth- 
er his  death  was  an  infinitely  greater  misfortune  than  to  herself. 
He  indeed  knew  not,  felt  not  the  agony  which  bound  her ;  he 
knew  not  the  void  which  was  on  her  soul ;  how  utterly,  un- 
speakably lonely  that  heart  had  become,  accustomed  as  it  had 
been  to  repose  its  every  thought,  and  hope,  and  wish,  and  feel- 
ing on  a  parent's  love  ;  yet  notwithstanding  this,  her  clear  mind 
felt  and  saw  that  while  for  herself  there  was  little  fear  that  she 
should  waver  in  those  principles  so  carefully  instilled,  for  her 
brother  there  was  much,  very  much  to  dread.  She  did  not 
and  could  not  repose  confidence  in  her  kinsman ;  for  her  pa- 
rent's sake  she  struggled  to  prevent  dislike,  to  compel  belief 
that  the  suavity,  even  kindness  of  his  manner,  the  sentiments 
which  he  expressed,  had  their  foundation  in  sincerity;  but 
when  her  young  brother  became  solely  and  entirely  subject  to 
his  influence,  she  could  no  longer  resist  the  conviction  that 
their  guardian  was  not  the  fittest  person  for  the  formation  of  a 
patriot.  She  could  not,  she  would  not  believe  the  rumor  which 
had  once,  but  once,  reached  her  ears,  uniting  the  hitherto  pure 
line  of  Macduff  with  midnight  murder ;  her  own  noble  mind 
rejected  the  idea  as  a  thing  utterly  and  wholly  impossible,  the 
more  so  perhaps,  as  she  knew  her  father  had  been  latterly  sub- 
ject to  an  insidious  disease,  baffling  all  the  leech's  art,  and 
which  he  himself  had  often  warned  her  would  terminate  sud- 
denly ;  yet  still  an  inward  shuddering  would  cross  her  heart  at 
times,  when  in  his  presence ;  she  could  not  define  the  cause, 
or  why  she  felt  it  sometimes  and  not  always,  and  so  she  sought 
to  subdue  it,  but  she  sought  in  vain. 

Meanwhile  an  event  approached  materially  connected  with 
the  Lady  Isabella,  and  whose  consummation  the  late  Thane 
of  Fife  had  earnestly  prayed  he  might  have  been  permitted  to 


THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  23 

hallow  with  his  blessing.  Alexander  Comyn,  Earl  of  Buchan 
and  High  Constable  of  Scotland,  had  been  from  early  youth 
the  brother  in  arms  and  dearest  friend  of  the  Earl  of  Fife,  and 
in  the  romantic  enthusiasm  which  ever  characterized  the  com- 
panionship of  chivalry,  they  had  exchanged  a  mutual  vow  that 
in  after  years,  should  heaven  grant  them  children,  a  yet  nearer 
and  dearer  tie  should  unite  their  houses.  The  birth  of  Isabella, 
two  years  after  that  of  an  heir  to  Buchan,  was  hailed  with  in- 
creased delight  by  both  fathers,  and  from  her  earliest  years  she 
was  accustomed  to  look  to  the  Lord  John  as  her  future  hus- 
band. Perhaps  had  they  been  much  thrown  together,  Isabel- 
la's high  and  independent  spirit  would  have  rebelled  against 
this  wish  of  her  father,  and  preferred  the  choosing  for  herself ; 
but  from  the  ages  of  eleven  and  nine  they  had  been  separated, 
the  Earl  of  Buchan  sending  his  son,  much  against  the  advice  of 
his  friend,  to  England,  imagining  that  there,  and  under  such  a 
knight  as  Prince  Edward,  he  would  better  learn  the  noble  art 
of  Avar  and  all  chivalric  duties,  than  in  the  more  barbarous 
realm  of  Scotland.  To  Isabella,  then,  her  destined  husband 
was  a  stranger  ;  yet  with  a  heart  too  young  and  unsophisticated 
to  combat  her  parent's  wishes,  by  any  idea  of  its  affections  be- 
coming otherwise  engaged,  and  judging  of  the  son  by  the 
father,  to  whom  she  was  ever  a  welcome  guest,  and  who  in 
himself  was  indeed  a  noble  example  of  chivalry  and  honor, 
Isabella  neither  felt  nor  expressed  any  repugnance  to  her 
father's  wish,  that  she  should  sign  her  name  to  a  contract  of 
betrothal,  drawn  up  by  the  venerable  abbot  of  Buchan,  and  to 
Avhich  the  name  of  Lord  John  had  been  already  appended  ;  it 
was  the  lingering  echoes  of  that  deep,  yet  gentle  voice,  bless- 
ing her  compliance  to  his  wishes,  which  thrilled  again  and 
again  to  her  heart,  softening  her  grief,  even  when  that  beloved 
voice  was  hushed  forever,  and  she  had  no  thought,  no  wish  to 
recall  that  promise,  nay,  even  looked  to  its  consummation  with 
joy,  as  a  release  from  the  companionship,  nay,  as  at  times  she 
felt,  the  wardance  of  her  kinsman. 

But  this  calm  and  happy  frame  of  mind  was  not  permitted 
to  be  of  long  continuance.  In  one  of  the  brief  intervals  of 
MacduflTs  absence  from  the  castle,  about  eighteen  months  after 
her  father's  death,  the  young  earl  prevailed  on  the  aged  re- 
tainer in  whose  charge  he  had  been  left,  to  consent  to  his  go- 
ing forth  to  hunt  the  red  deer,  a  sport  of  which,  boy  as  he  was, 


24  THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

he  was  passionately  fond.  In  joyous  spirits,  and  attended  by 
a  gallant  train,  he  set  out,  calling  for  and  receiving  the  ready 
sympathy  of  his  sister,  who  rejoiced  as  himself  in  his  emanci- 
pation from  restraint,  which  either  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  ad- 
verse to  the  usual  treatment  of  noble  youths. 

Somewhat  sooner  than  Isabella  anticipated,  they  returned. 
Earl  Duncan,  with  a  wilfulness  which  already  characterized 
him,  weary  of  the  extreme  watchfulness  of  his  attendants,  who, 
in  their  anxiety  to  keep  him  from  danger,  checked  and  inter- 
fered with  his  boyish  wish  to  signalize  himself  by  some  daring 
deed  of  agility  and  skill,  at  length  separated  himself,  except 
from  one  or  two  as  wilful,  and  but  little  older  than  himself. 
The  young  lord  possessed  all  the  daring  of  his  race,  but  skill 
and  foresight  he  needed  greatly,  and  'dearly  would  he  have 
paid  for  his  rashness.  A  young  and  fiery  bull  had  chanced  to 
cross  his  path,  and  disregarding  the  entreaties  of  his  followers, 
he  taunted  them  with  cowardice,  and  goaded  the  furious  animal 
to  the  encounter ;  too  late  he  discovered  that  he  had  neither 
skill  nor  strength  for  the  combat  he  had  provoked,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  strenuous  exertions  of  a  stranger  youth,  who 
diverted  aside  the  fury  of  the  beast,  he  must  have  fallen  a  vic- 
tim to  his  thoughtless  daring.  Curiously,  and  almost  enviously, 
he  watched  the  combat  between  the  stranger  and  the  bull,  nor 
did  any  emotion  of  gratitude  rise  in  the  boy's  breast  to  soften  the 
bitterness  with  which  he  regarded  the  victory  of  the  former, 
which  the  reproaches  of  his  retainers,  who  at  that  instant  came 
up,  and  their  condemnation  of  his  folly,  did  not  tend  to  diminish ; 
and  almost  sullenly  he  passed  to  the  rear,  on  their  return,  leaving 
Sir  Malise  Duff  to  make  the  acknowledgments,  which  should 
have  come  from  him,  and  courteously  invite  the  young  stranger 
to  accompany  them  home,  an  invitation  which,  somewhat  to 
the  discomposure  of  Earl  Duncan,  was  accepted. 

If  the  stranger  had  experienced  any  emotion  of  anger  from 
the  boy's  slight  of  his  services,  the  gratitude  of  the  Lady  Isa- 
bella would  have  banished  it  on  the  instant,  and  amply  repaid 
them  ;  with  cheeks  glowing,  eyes  glistening,  and  a  voice  quiv- 
ering with  suppressed  emotion,  she  had  spoken  her  brief  yet 
eloquent  thanks ;  and  had  he  needed  further  proof,  the  em- 
brace she  lavished  on  her  young  brother,  as  reluctantly,  and 
after  a  long  interval,  he  entered  the  hall,  said  yet  more  than 
her  broken  words. 


THE   DATS    OF   BRUCE.  25 

"  Thou  art  but  a  fool,  Isabella,  craving  thy  pardon,"  was  his 
ungracious  address,  as  he  sullenly  freed  himself  from  her. 
"  Had  I  brought  thee  the  bull's  horns,  there  might  have  been 
some  cause  for  this  marvellously  warm  welcome ;  but  as 
it  is — " 

"  I  joy  thou  wert  not  punished  for  thy  rashness,  Duncan. 
Yet  'twas  not  in  such  mood  I  hoped  to  find  thee  ;  knovvest  thou 
that  'tis  to  yon  brave  stranger  thou  owest  thy  life  ?" 

"  Better  it  had  been  forfeited,  than  that  he  should  stand  be- 
tween me  and  mine  honor.  I  thank  him  not  for  it,  nor  owe 
him  aught  like  gratitude." 

"  Peace,  ungrateful  boy,  an  thou  knowest  not  thy  station 
better,"  was  his  sister's  calm,  yet  dignified  reply;  and  the 
stranger  smiled,  and  by  his  courteous  manner,  speedily  dis- 
missed her  fears  as  to  the  impression  of  her  brother's  words, 
regarding  them  as  the  mere  petulance  of  a  child. 

Days  passed,  and  still  the  stranger  lingered ;  eminently 
handsome,  his  carriage  peculiarly  graceful,  and  even  dignified, 
although  it  was  evident,  from  the  slight,  and  as  it  were,  unfin- 
ished roundness  of  his  figure,  that  he  was  but  in  the  first  stage 
of  youth,  yet  his  discourse  and  manner  were  of  a  kind  that 
would  bespeak  him  noble,  even  had  his  appearance  been  less 
convincing.  According  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  which  would 
have  deemed  the  questioning  a  guest  as  to  his  name  and  family 
a  breach  of  all  the  rules  of  chivalry  and  hospitality,  he  remained 
unknown. 

"  Men  call  me  Sir  Robert,  though  I  have  still  my  spurs  to 
win,"  he  had  once  said,  laughingly,  to  Lady  Isabella  and  her 
kinsman,  Sir  Malise  Duff,  "  but  I  would  not  proclaim  my  birth 
till  I  may  bring  it  honor." 

A  month  passed  ere  their  guest  took  his  departure,  leaving 
regard  and  regret  behind  him,  in  all,  perhaps,  save  in  the  child- 
ish breast  of  Earl  Duncan,  whose  sullen  manner  had  never 
changed.  There  was  a  freshness  and  light-heartedness,  and  a 
wild  spirit  of  daring  gallantry  about  the  stranger  that  fascina- 
ted, men  scarce  knew  wherefore  ;  a  reckless  independence  of 
sentiment  which  charmed,  from  the  utter  absence  of  all  affecta- 
tion which  it  comprised.  To  all,  save  to  the  Lady  Isabella,  he 
was  a  mere  boy,  younger  even  than  his  years ;  but  in  conver- 
sation with  her  his  superior  mind  shone  forth,  proving  he 
could  in  truth  appreciate  hers,  and  give  back  intellect  for  intej- 

2 


26  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

lect,  feeling  for  feeling ;  perhaps  her  beauty  and  unusual  en- 
dowments had  left  their  impression  upon  him.  However  it 
may  be,  one  day,  one  little  day  after  the  departure  of  Sir 
Robert,  Isabella  woke  to  the  consciousness  that  the  calm  which 
had  so  long  rested  on  her  spirit  had  departed,  and  forever ; 
and  to  what  had  it  given  place  ?  Had  she  dared  to  love,  she, 
the  betrothed,  the  promised  bride  of  another  ?  No ;  she  could 
not  have  sunk  thus  low,  her  heart  had  been  too  long  controlled 
to  rebel  now.  She  might  not,  she  would  not  listen  to  its  voice, 
to  its  wild,  impassioned  throbs.  Alas !  she  miscalculated  her 
own  power ;  the  fastnesses  she  had  deemed  secure  were  forced  ; 
they  closed  upon  their  subtle  foe,  and  held  their  conqueror 
prisoner. 

But  Isabella  was  not  one  to  waver  in  a  determination  when 
once  formed ;  how  might  she  break  asunder  links  which  the 
dead  had  hallowed  ?  She  became  the  bride  of  Lord  John ; 
she  sought  with  her  whole  soul  to  forget  the  past,  and  love 
him  according  to  her  bridal  vow,  and  as  time  passed  she  ceased 
to  think  of  that  beautiful  vision  of  her  early  youth,  save  as  a 
dream  that  had  had  no  resting  ;  and  a  mother's  fond  yearnings 
sent  their  deep  delicious  sweetness  as  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters  of  her  heart.  She  might  have  done  this,  but  unhappily 
she  too  soon  discovered  her  husband  was  not  one  to  aid  her  in 
her  unsuspected  task,  to  soothe  and  guide,  and  by  his  affection 
demand  her  gratitude  and  reverence.  Enwrapped  in  selfish- 
ness or  haughty  indifference,  his  manner  towards  her  ever 
harsh,  unbending,  and  suspicious,  Isabella's  pride  would  have 
sustained  her,  had  not  her  previous  trial  lowered  her  in  self- 
esteem  ;  but  as  it  was,  meekly  and  silently  she  bore  with  the 
continued  outbreak  of  unrestrained  passion,  and  never  wavered 
from  the  path  of  duty  her  clear  mind  had  laid  down. 

On  the  birth  of  a  son,  however,  her  mind  regained  its  tone, 
and  inwardly  yet  solemnly  she  vowed  that  no  mistaken  sense 
of  duty  to  her  husband  should  interfere  with  the  education  of 
her  son.  As  widely  opposed  as  were  their  individual  charac- 
ters, so  were  the  politics  of  the  now  Earl  and  Countess  of 
Buchan.  Educated  in  England,  on  friendly  terms  with  her 
king,  he  had,  as  the  Earl  of  Fife  anticipated,  lost  all  nationality, 
all  interest  in  Scotland,  and  as  willingly  and  unconcernedly 
taken  the  vows  of  homage  to  John  Baliol,  as  the  mere  repre- 
sentative and  lieutenant  of  Edward,  as  he  would  have  done  to 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  27 

a  free  and  unlimited  king.  He  had  been  among  the  very  first 
to  vote  for  calling  in  the  King  of  England  as  umpire  ;  the  most 
eager  to  second  and  carry  out  all  Edward's  views,  and  conse- 
quently high  in  that  monarch's  favor,  a  reputation  which  his 
enmity  to  the  house  of  Bruce,  one  of  the  most  troublesome 
competitors  of  the  crown,  did  not  tend  to  diminish.  Fortu- 
nately perhaps  for  Isabella,  the  bustling  politics  of  her  husband 
constantly  divided  them.  The  births  of  a  daughter  and  son  had 
no  effect  in  softening  his  hard  and  selfish  temper ;  he  looked 
on  them  more  as  incumbrances  than  pleasures,  and  leaving  the 
countess  in  the  strong  Tower  of  Buchan,  he  himself,  with  a 
troop  of  armed  and  mounted  Comyns,  attached  himself  to  the 
court  and  interests  of  Edward,  seeming  to  forget  that  such  be- 
ings as  a  wife  and  children  had  existence.  Months,  often  years, 
would  stretch  between  the  earl's  visits  to  his  mountain  home, 
and  then  a  week  was  the  longest  period  of  his  lingering ;  but 
no  evidence  of  a  gentler  spirit  or  of  less  indifference  to  his  chil- 
dren was  apparent,  and  years  seemed  to  have  turned  to  positive 
evil,  qualities  which  in  youth  had  merely  seemed  unamiable. 

Desolate  as  the  situation  of  the  countess  might  perhaps  ap- 
pear, she  found  solace  and  delight  in  moulding  the  young  minds 
of  her  children  according  to  the  pure  and  elevated  cast  of  her 
own.  All  the  long-suppressed  tenderness  of  her  nature  was 
lavished  upon  them,  and  on  their  innocent  love  she  sought  to 
rest  the  passionate  yearnings  of  her  own.  She  taught  them  to 
be  patriots,  in  the  purest,  most  beautiful  appropriation  of  the 
term, — to  spurn  the  yoke  of  the  foreigner,  and  the  oppressor, 
however  light  and  flowery  the  links  of  that  yoke  might  seem. 
She  could  not  bid  them  love  and  revere  their  father  as  she 
longed  to  do,  but  she  taught  them  that  where  their  duty  to 
their  country  and  their  free  and  unchained  king  interfered  not, 
in  all  things  they  must  obey  and  serve  their  father,  and  seek  to 
win  his  love. 

Once  only  had  the  Countess  of  Buchan  beheld  the  vision 
which  had  crossed  her  youth.  He  had  come,  it  seemed  uncon- 
scious of  his  track,  and  asked  hospitality  for  a  night,  evidently 
without  knowing  who  was  the  owner  of  the  castle  ;  perhaps  his 
thoughts  were  preoccupied,  for  a  deep  gloom  was  on  his  brow, 
and  though  he  had  started  with  evident  pleasure  when  recog- 
nizing his  beautiful  hostess,  the  gloom  speedily  resumed  ascen- 
dency. It  was  but  a  few  weeks  after  the  fatal  battle  of  Falkirk, 


28  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

and  therefore  Isabella  felt  there  was  cause  enough  for  depres- 
sion and  uneasiness.  The  graces  of  boyhood  had  given  place 
to  a  finished  manliness  of  deportment,  a  calmer  expression  of 
feature,  denoting  that  years  had  changed  and  steadied  the  char- 
acter, even  as  the  form.  He  then  seemed  as  one  laboring  un- 
der painful  and  heavy  thought,  as  one  brooding  over  some 
mighty  change  within,  as  if  some  question  of  weighty  import 
were  struggling  with  recollections  and  visions  of  the  past.  He 
had  spoken  little,  evidently  shrinking  in  pain  from  all  reference 
to  or  information  on  the  late  engagement.  He  tarried  not  long, 
departing  with  dawn  next  day,  and  they  did  not  meet  again. 

And  what  had  been  the  emotions  of  the  countess  ?  perhaps 
her  heart  had  throbbed,  and  her  cheek  paled  and  flushed,  at 
this  unexpected  meeting  with  one  she  had  fervently  prayed 
never  to  see  again ;  but  not  one  feeling  obtained  ascendency 
in  that  heart  which  she  would  have  dreaded  to  unveil  to  the 
eye  of  her  husband.  She  did  indeed  feel  that  had  her  lot  been 
cast  otherwise,  it  must  have  been  a  happy  one,  but  the  thought 
was  transient.  She  was  a  wife,  a  mother,  and  in  the  happiness 
of  her  children,  her  youth,  and  all  its  joys  and  pangs,  and 
dreams  and  hopes,  were  merged,  to  be  recalled  no  more. 

The  task  of  instilling  patriotic  sentiments  in  the  breast  of  her 
son  had  been  insensibly  aided  by  the  countess's  independent 
position  amid  the  retainers  of  Buchan.  This  earldom  had  only 
been  possessed  by  the  family  of  Comyn  since  the  latter  years 
of  the  reign  of  William  the  Lion,  passing  into  their  family  by 
the  marriage  of  Margaret  Countess  of  Buchan  with  Sir  William 
Comyn,  a  knight  of  goodly  favor  and  repute.  This  interpola- 
tion and  ascendency  of  strangers  was  a  continual  source  of  jeal- 
ousy and  ire  to  the  ancient  retainers  of  the  olden  heritage,  and 
continually  threatened  to  break  out  into  open  feud,  had  not  the 
soothing  policy  of  the  Countess.  Margaret  and  her  descendants, 
by  continually  employing  them  together  in  subjecting  other 
petty  clans,  contrived  to  keep  them  in  good  humor.  As  long 
as  their  lords  were  loyal  to  Scotland  and  her  king,  and  behaved 
so  as  to  occasion  no  unpleasant  comparison  between  them  and 
former  superiors,  all  went  on  smoothly ;  but  the  haughty  and 
often  outrageous  conduct  of  the  present  earl,  his  utter  neglect 
of  their  interests,  his  treasonous  politics,  speedily  roused  the 
slumbering  fire  into  flame.  A  secret  yet  solemn  oath  went 
round  the  clan,  by  which  every  fighting  man  bound  himself  to 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  29 

rebel  against  their  master,  rather  than  betray  their  country  by 
siding  with  a  foreign  tyrant ;  to  desert  their  homes,  their  all, 
and  disperse  singly  midst  the  fastnesses  and  rocks  of  Scotland, 
than  lift  up  a  sword  against  her  freedom.  The  sentiments  of 
the  countess  were  very  soon  discovered ;  and  even  yet  stronger 
than  the  contempt  and  loathing  with  which  they  looked  upon 
the  earl  was  the  love,  the  veneration  they  bore  to  her  and  to 
her  children.  If  his  mother's  lips  had  been  silent,  the  youthful 
heir  would  have  learned  loyalty  and  patriotism  from  his  brave 
though  unlettered  retainers,  as  it  was  to  them  he  owed  the  skill 
and  grace  with  which  he  sate  his  fiery  steed,  and  poised  his 
heavy  lance,  and  wielded  his  stainless  brand — to  them  he  owed 
all  the  chivalric  accomplishments  of  the  day ;  and  though  he 
had  never  quitted  the  territories  of  Buchan,  he  would  have  found 
few  to  compete  with  him  in  his  high  and  gallant  spirit. 

Dark  and  troubled  was  the  political  aspect  of  unhappy  Scot- 
land, at  the  eventful  period  at  which  our  tale  commences.  The 
barbarous  and  most  unjust  execution  of  Sir  William  Wallace 
had  struck  the  whole  country  as  with  a  deadly  panic,  from 
which  it  seemed  there  was  not  one  to  rise  to  cast  aside  the 
heavy  chains,  whose  weight  it  seemed  had  crushed  the  whole 
kingdom,  and  taken  from  it  the  last  gleams  of  patriotism  and 
of  hope.  Every  fortress  of  strength  and  consequence  was  in 
possession  of  the  English.  English  soldiers,  English  commis- 
sioners, English  judges,  laws,  and  regulations  now  filled  and 
governed  Scotland.  The  abrogation  of  all  those  ancient  cus- 
toms, which  had  descended  from  the  Celts  and  Picts,  and  Scots, 
fell  upon  the  hearts  of  all  true  Scottish  men  as  the  tearing 
asunder  the  last  links  of  freedom,  and  branding  them  as  slaves. 
Her  principal  nobles,  strangely  and  traitorously,  preferred  safety 
and  wealth,  in  the  acknowledgment  and  servitude  of  Edward, 
to  glory  and  honor  in  the  service  of  their  country ;  and  the 
spirits  of  the  middle  ranks  yet  spurned  the  inglorious  yoke,  and 
throbbed  but  for  one  to  lead  them  on,  if  not  to  victory,  at  least 
to  an  honorable  death.  That  one  seemed  not  to  rise  ;  it  was 
as  if  the  mighty  soul  of  Scotland  had  departed,  when  Wallace 
slept  in  death. 


30  THE  DATS  OF  BKUCE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  BUSTLING  and  joyous  aspect  did  tbe  ancient  town  of  Scone 
present  near  the  end  of  March,  1306.  Subdued  indeed,  and 
evidently  under  some  restraint  and  mystery,  which  might  be 
accounted  for  by  the  near  vicinity  of  the  English,  who  were 
quartered  in  large  numbers  over  almost  the  whole  of  Perth- 
shire ;  some,  however,  appeared  exempt  from  these  most  un- 
welcome guests.  The  nobles,  esquires,  yeomen,  and  peasants — 
all,  by  their  national  garb  and  eager  yet  suppressed  voices, 
might  be  known  at  once  as  Scotsmen  right  and  true. 

It  had  been  long,  very  long  since  the  old  quiet  town  had  wit- 
nessed such  busy  groups  and  such  eager  tongues  as  on  all  sides 
thronged  it  now;  the  very  burghers  and  men  of  handicraft 
wore  on  their  countenances  tokens  of  something  momentous. 
There  were  smiths'  shops  opening  on  every  side,  armorers  at 
work,  anvils  clanging,  spears  sharpening,  shields  burnishing, 
bits  and  steel  saddles  and  sharp  spurs  meeting  the  eye  at  every 
turn.     Ever  and  anon,  came  a  burst  of  enlivening  music,  and 
well  mounted  and  gallantly  attired,  attended  by  some  twenty 
or  fifty  followers,  as  may  be,  would  gallop  down  some  knight 
or  noble,  his  armor  flashing  back  a  hundred  fold  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun ;  his  silken  pennon  displayed,  the  device  of  which 
seldom  failed  to  excite  a  hearty  cheer  from  the  excited  crowds  ; 
his  stainless  shield  and  heavy  spear  borne  by  his  attendant 
esquires ;  his  vizor  up,  as  if  he  courted  and  dared  recognition ; 
his  surcoat,  curiously  and  tastefully  embroidered  ;  his  gold  or 
silver-sheathed  and  hilted  sword  suspended  by  the  silken  sash 
of  many  folds  and  brilliant  coloring.     On  foot  or  on  horseback, 
these  noble  cavaliers  were  continually  passing  and  repassing 
the  ancient  streets,  singly  or  in  groups  ;  then  there  were  their 
followers,  all  carefully  and  strictly  armed,  in  the  buff  coat 
plaited  with  steel,  the  well-quilted  bonnet,  the  huge  broad- 
sword ;  Highlanders  in  their  peculiar  and  graceful  costume ; 
even  the  stout  farmers,  who  might  also  be  found  amongst  this 
motley  assemblage,  wearing  the  iron  hauberk  and  sharp  sword 
beneath  their  apparently  peaceful  garb.     Friars  in  their  gray 
frocks  and  black  cowls,  and  stately  burghers  and  magistrates, 
in  their  velvet  cloaks  and  gold  chains,  continually  mingled  their 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  31 

peaceful  forms  with  their  more  warlike  brethren,  and  lent  a  yet 
more  varied  character  to  the  stirring  picture. 

Varied  as  were  the  features  of  this  moving  multitude,  the 
expression  on  every  countenance,  noble  and  follower,  yeoman 
and  peasant,  burgher  and  even  monk,  was  invariably  the  same 
— a  species  of  strong  yet  suppressed  excitement,  sometimes 
shaded  by  anxiety,  sometimes  lighted  by  hope,  almost  amount- 
ing to  triumph ;  sometimes  the  dark  frown  of  scorn  and  hate 
would  pass  like  a  thunder-cloud  over  noble  brows,  and  the 
mailed  hand  unconsciously  clutched  the  sword ;  and  then  the 
low  thrilling  laugh  of  derisive  contempt  would  disperse  the 
shade,  and  the  muttered  oath  of  vengeance  drown  the  voice  of 
execration.  It  would  have  been  a  strange  yet  mighty  study, 
the  face  of  man  in  that  old  town ;  but  men  were  all  too  much 
excited  to  observe  their  fellows,  to  them  it  was  enough — un- 
spoken, unirnparted  wisdom  as  it  was — to  know,  'to  feel,  one 
common  feeling  bound  that  varied  mass  of  men,  one  mighty 
interest  made  them  brothers. 

The  ancient  Palace  of  Scone,  so  long  unused,  was  now  evi- 
dently the  head-quarters  of  the  noblemen  hovering  about  the 
town,  for  whatever  purpose  they  were  there  assembled.  The 
heavy  flag  of  Scotland,  in  all  its  massive  quarterings,  as  the 
symbol  of  a  free  unfettered  kingdom,  waved  from .  the  centre 
tower ;  archers  and  spearmen  lined  the  courts,  sentinels  were 
at  their  posts,  giving  and  receiving  the  watchword  from  all  who 
passed  and  repassed  the  heavy  gates,  which  from  dawn  till 
nightfall  were  flung  wide  open,  as  if  the  inmates  of  that  regal 
dwelling  were  ever  ready  to  receive  their  friends,  and  feared 
not  the  approach  of  foes. 

The  sun,  though  sinking,  was  still  bright,  when  the  slow  and 
dignified  approach  of  the  venerable  abbot  of  Scone  occasioned 
some  stir  and  bustle  amidst  the  joyous  occupants  of  the  palace 
yard  ;  the  wild  joke  was  hushed,  the  noisy  brawl  subsided,  the 
games  of  quoit  and  hurling  the  bar  a  while  suspended,  and  the 
silence  of  unaffected  reverence  awaited  the  good  old  man's  ap- 
proach and  kindly-given  benediction.  Leaving  his  attendants 
in  one  of  the  lower  rooms,  the  abbot  proceeded  up  the  massive 
stone  staircase,  and  along  a  broad  and  lengthy  passage,  darkly 
panelled  with  thick  oak,  then  pushing  aside  some  heavy  arras, 
stood  within  one  of  the  state  chambers,  and  gave  his  fervent 
benison  on  one  within.  This  was  a  man  in  the  earliest  and 


32  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

freshest  prime  of  life,  that  period  uniting  all  the  grace  and 
beauty  of  youth  with  the  mature  thought,  and  steady  wisdom, 
and  calmer  views  of  manhood.  That  he  was  of  noble  birth 
and  blood  and  training  one  glance  sufficed  ;  peculiarly  and  glo- 
riously distinguished  in  the  quiet  majesty  of  his  figure,  in  the 
mild  attempered  gravity  of  his  commanding  features.  Nature 
herself  seemed  to  have  marked  him  out  "for  the  distinguished 
part  it  was  his  to  play.  Already  there  were  lines  of  thought 
upon  the  clear  and  open  brow,  and  round  the  mouth  ;  and  the 
blue  eye  shone  with  that  calm,  steady  lustre,  which  seldom 
comes  till  the  changeful  fire  and  wild  visions  of  dreamy  youth 
have  departed.  His  hair,  of  rich  and  glossy  brown,  fell  in 
loose  natural  curls  on  either  side  his  face,  somewhat  lower  than 
his  throat,  shading  his  cheeks,  which,  rather  pale  than  other- 
wise, added  to  the  somewhat  grave  aspect  of  his  countenance  ; 
his  armor  of  steel,  richly  and  curiously  inlaid  with  burnished 
gold,  sat  lightly  and  easily  upon  his  peculiarly  tall  and  manly 
figure ;  a  sash,"  of  azure  silk  and  gold,  suspended  his  sword, 
whose  sheath  was  in  unison  with  the  rest  of  his  armor,  though 
the  hilt  was  studded  with  gems.  His  collar  was  also  of  gold, 
as  were  his  gauntlets,  which  with  his  helmet  rested  on  a  table 
near  him ;  a  coronet  of  plain  gold  surmounted  his  helmet,  and 
on  his  surcoat,  which  lay  on  a  seat  at  the  further  end  of  the 
room,  might  be  discerned  the  rampant  lion  of  Scotland,  sur- 
mounted by  a  crown. 

The  apartment  in  which  he  stood,  though  shorn  of  much  of 
that  splendor  which",  ere  the  usurping  invasion  of  Edward  of 
England,  had  distinguished  it,  still  bore  evidence  of  being  a 
chamber  of  some  state.  The  hangings  were  of  dark-green  vel- 
vet embroidered,  and  with  a  very  broad  fringe  of  gold  ;  drapery 
of  the  same  costly  material  adorned  the  broad  casements,  which 
stood  in  heavy  frames  of  oak,  black  as  ebony.  Large  folding- 
doors,  with  panels  of  the  same  beautiful  material,  richly  carved, 
opened  into  an  ante-chamber,  and  thence  to  the  grand  staircase 
and  more  public  parts  of  the  building.  In  this  antechamber 
were  now  assembled  pages,  esquires,  and  other  officers  bespeak- 
ing a  royal  household,  though  much  less  numerous  than  is  gen- 
erally the  case. 

"  Sir  Edward  and  the  young  Lord  of  Douglas  have  not  re- 
turned, sayest  thou,  good  Athelbert  ?  Knowest  thou  when  and 
for  what  went  they  forth  ?"  were  the  words  which  were  spoken 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  33 

by  the  noble  we  have  described,  as  the  abbot  entered,  unper- 
ceived  at  first,  from  his  having  avoided  the  public  entrance  to 
the  state  rooms  ;  they  were  addressed  to  an  esquire,  who,  with 
cap  in  hand  and  head  somewhat  lowered,  respectfully  awaited 
the  commands  of  his  master. 

"  They  said  not  the  direction  of  their  course,  my  liege  ;  'tis 
thought  to  reconnoitre  either  the  movements  of  the  English,  or 
to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  delay  of  the  Lord  of  Fife.  They 
departed  at  sunrise,  with  but  few  followers." 

"  On  but  a  useless  errand,  good  Athelbert,  methinks,  an  they 
hope  to  greet  Earl  Duncan,  save  with  a  host  of  English  at  his 
back.  Bid  Sir  Edward  hither,  should  he  return  ere  nightfall, 
and  see  to  the  instant  delivery  of  those  papers  ;  I  fear  me,  the 
good  lord  bishop  has  waited  for  them  ;  and  stay — Sir  Robert 
Keith,  hath  he  not  yet  returned  ?" 

"  No,  good  my  lord." 

"  Ha !  he  tarrieth  long,"  answered  the  noble,  musingly. 
"  Now  heaven  forefend  no  evil  hath  befallen  him ;  but  to  thy 
mission,  Athelbert,  I  must  not  detain  thee  with  doubts  and 
cavil.  Ha !  reverend  father,  right  welcome,"  he  added,  per- 
ceiving him  as  he  turned  again  to  the  table,  on  the  esquire 
reverentially  withdrawing-  from  his  presence,  and  bending  his 
head  humbly  in  acknowledgment  of  the  abbot's  benediction. 
"  Thou  findest  me  busied  as  usual.  Seest  thou,"  he  pointed 
to  a  rough  map  of  Scotland  lying  before  him,  curiously  inter- 
sected Avith  mystic  lines  and  crosses,  "  Edinburgh,  Berwick, 
Roxburgh,  Lanark,  Stirling,  Dumbarton,  in  the  power  of,  nay 
peopled,  by  English.  Argyle  on  the  west,  Elgin,  Aberdeen, 
with  Banff  eastward,  teeming  with  proud,  false  Scots,  hered- 
itary foes  to  the  Bruce,  false  traitors  to  their  land  ;  the  north — 
why,  'tis  the  same  foul  tale  ;  and  yet  I  dare  to  raise  my  ban- 
ner, dare  to  wear  the  crown,  and  fling  defiance  in  the  teeth  of 
all.  What  sayest  thou,  father — is't  not  a  madman's  deed?" 

All  appearance  of  gravity  vanished  from  his  features  as  he 
spoke.  His  eye,  seemingly  so  mild,  flashed  till  its  very  color 
could  not  have  been  distinguished,  his  cheek  glowed,  his  lip 
curled,  and  his  voice,  ever  peculiarly  rich  and  sonorous,  deep- 
ened with  the  excitement  of  soul. 

"  Were  the  fate  of  man  in  his  own  hands,  were  it  his  and 
his  alone  to  make  or  mar  his  destiny.  I  should  e'en  proclaim 
thee  mad,  my  son,  and  seek  to  turn  thee  from  thy  desperate 

2* 


34:  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

purpose  ;  but  it  is  not  so.  Man  is  but  an  instrument,  and  He 
who  urged  thee  to  this  deed,  who  wills  not  this  poor  land  to 
rest  enslaved,  will  give  thee  strength  and  wisdom  for  its  free- 
dom. His  ways  are  not  as  man's ;  and  circled  as  thou  seemest 
with  foes,  His  strength  shall  bring  thee  forth  and  gird  thee 
with  His  glory.  Thou  wouldst  not  turn  aside,  my  son — thou 
fearest  not  thy  foes  ?" 

"  Fear !  holy  father  :  it  is  a  word  unknown  to  the  children 
of  the  Bruce  !  I  do  but  smile  at  mine  extensive  kingdom — of 
some  hundred  acres  square  ;  smile  at  the  eagerness  with  which 
they  greet  me  liege  and  king,  as  if  the  words,  so  long  unused, 
should  now  do  double  duty  for  long  absence." 

"  And  better  so,  my  son,"  answered  the  old  man,  cheer- 
fully. "  Devotion  to  her  destined  savior  argues  well  for  bonny 
Scotland  ;  better  do  homage  unto  thee  as  liege  and  king, 
though  usurpation  hath  abridged  thy  kingdom,  than  to  the 
hireling  of  England's  Edward,  all  Scotland  at  his  feet.  Men 
will  not  kneel  to  sceptred  slaves,  nor  freemen  fight  for  tyrants' 
tools.  Sovereign  of  Scotland  thou  art,  thou  shalt  be,  Robert 
the  Bruce  !  Too  long  hast  thou  kept  back  ;  but  now,  if  arms 
can  fight  and  hearts  can  pray,  thou  shalt  be  king  of  Scot- 
land." 

The  abbot  spoke  with  a  fervor,  a  spirit  which,  though  per- 
haps little  accordant  with  his  clerical  character,  thrilled  to  the 
Bruce's  heart.  He  grasped  the  old  man's  hand. 

"  Holy  father,"  he  said,  "  thou  wouldst  inspire  hearts  with 
ardor  needing  inspiration  more  than  mine ;  and  to  me  thou 
givest  hope,  and  confidence,  and  strength.  Too  long  have  I 
slept  and  dreamed,"  his  countenance  darkened,  and  his  voice 
was  sadder  ;  "  fickle  in  purpose,  uncertain  in  accomplishment ; 
permitting  my  youth  to  moulder  'neath  the  blasting  atmos- 
phere of  tyranny.  Yet  will  I  now  atone  for  the  neglected 
past.  Atone !  aye,  banish  it  from  the  minds  of  men.  My 
country  hath  a  claim,  a  double  claim  upon  me  ;  she  calls  upon 
me,  trumpet-tongued,  to  arise,  avenge  her,  and  redeem  my 
misspent  youth.  Nor  shall  she  call  on  me  in  vain,  so  help  me, 
gracious  heaven !" 

^  "  Amen,"  fervently  responded  the  abbot ;  and  the  king  con- 
tinued more  hurriedly — 

"And  that  stain,  that  blot,  father?  Is  there  mercy  in 
heaven  to  wash  its  darkness  from  my  soul,  or  must  it  linger 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  35 

there  forever  preying  on  my  spirit,  dashing  e'en  its  highest 
hopes  and  noblest  dreams  with  poison,  whispering  its  still  voice 
of  accusation,  even  when  loudest  rings  the  praise  and  love  of 
men  ?  Is  there  no  rest  for  this,  no  silence  for  that  whisper  ? 
Penitence,  atonement,  any  thing  thou  wilt,  let  but  my  soul  be 
free  !"  Hastily,  and  with  step  and  countenance  disordered,  he 
traversed  the  chamber,  his  expressive  countenance  denoting  the 
strife  within. 

"It  was,  in  truth,  a  rash  and  guilty  deed,  my  son,"  answered 
the  abbot,  gravely,  yet  mildly,  "and  one  that  heaven  in  its  jus- 
tice will  scarce  pass  unavenged.  Man  hath  given  thee  the  ab- 
solution accorded  to  the  true  and  faithful  penitent,  for  such 
thou  art ;  yet  scarcely  dare  we  hope  offended  heaven  is  ap- 
peased. Justice  will  visit  thee  with  trouble — sore,  oppressing, 
grievous  trouble.  Yet  despair  not :  thou  wilt  come  forth  the 
purer,  nobler,  brighter,  from  the  fire ;  despair  not,  but  as  a 
child  receive  a  father's  chastening ;  lean  upon  that  love,  which 
wills  not  death,  but  penitence  and  life ;  that  love,  which  yet 
will  bring  thee  forth  and  bless  this  land  in  thee.  My  son,  be 
comforted  ;  His  mercy  is  yet  greater  than  thy  sin." 

"  And  blest  art  thou,  my  father,  for  these  blessed  words  ;  a 
messenger  in  truth  thou  art  of  peace  and  love  ;  and  oh,  if  pray- 
ers and  penitence  avail,  if  sore  temptation  may  be  pleaded,  I 
shall,  I  shall  be  pardoned.  Yet  would  I  give  my  dearest  hopes 
of  life,  of  fame,  of  all — save  Scotland's  freedom — that  this  evil 
had  not  chanced  ;  that  blood,  his  blood — base  traitor  as  he 
was — was  not  upon  my  hand." 

"  And  can  it  be  thou  art  such  craven,  Robert,  as  to  repent  a 
Comyn's  death — a  Comyn,  and  a  traitor — e'en  though  his  das- 
tard blood  be  on  thy  hand  ? — bah !  An'  such  deeds  weigh 
heavy  on  thy  mind,  a  friar's  cowl  were  better  suited  to  thy 
brow  than  Scotland's  diadem." 

The  speaker  was  a  tall,  powerful  man,  somewhat  younger  in 
appearance  than  the  king,  but  with  an  expression  of  fierceness 
and  haughty  pride,  contrasting  powerfully  with  the  benevolent 
and  native  dignity  which  so  characterized  the  Bruce.  His 
voice  was  as  harsh  as  his  manner  was  abrupt ;  yet  that  he  was 
brave,  nay,  rash  in  his  unthinking  daring,  a  very  transient  glance 
would  suffice  to  discover. 

"  I  forgive  thee  thine  undeserved  taunt,  Edward,"  answered 
the  king,  calmly,  though  the  hot  blood  rushed  up  to  his  cheek 


36  THE   DAYS    OF   BBUCE. 

and  brow.  "  I  tmst,  ere  long,  to  prove  thy  words  are  as  idle 
as  the  mood  which  prompted  them.  I  feel  not  that  repentance 
cools  the  patriot  fire  which  urges  me  to  strike  for  Scotland's 
weal — that  sorrow  for  a  hated  crime  unfits  me  for  a  warrior. 
I  would  not  Comyn  lived,  but  that  he  had  met  a  traitor's  fate 
by  other  hands  than  mine;  been  judged — condemned,  as  his 
black  treachery  called  for  ;  even  for  our  country's  sake,  it  had 
been  better  thus." 

"  Thou  art  over- scrupulous,  my  liege  and  brother,  and  I  too 
hasty,"  replied  Sir  Edward  Bruce,  in  the  same  bold,  careless 
tone.  "  Yet  beshrew  me,  but  I  think  that  in  these  times  a 
sudden  blow  and  hasty  fate  the  only  judgment  for  a  traitor. 
The  miscreant  were  too  richly  honored,  that  by  thy  royal  hand 
he  fell." 

"  My  son,  my  son,  I  pray  thee,  peace,"  urged  the  abbot,  in 
accents  of  calm,  yet  grave  authority.  "  As  minister  of  heaven, 
I  may  not  list  such  words.  Bend  not  thy  brow  in  wrath,  clad 
as  thou  art  in  mail,  in  youthful  might ;  yet  in  my  Maker's 
cause  this  withered  frame  is  stronger  yet  than  thou  art. 
Enough  of  that  which  hath  been.  Thy  sovereign  spoke  in 
lowly  penitence  to  me — to  me,  who  frail  and  lowly  unto  thee, 
am  yet  the  minister  of  Him  whom  sin  offends.  To  thee  he 
stands  a  warrior  and  a  king,  who  rude  irreverence  may  brook 
not,  even  from  his  brother.  Be  peace  between  us,  then,  my 
son ;  an  old  man's  blessing  on  thy  fierce  yet  knightly  spirit 
rest." 

"With  a  muttered  oath  Sir  Edward  had  strode  away  at  the 
abbot's  first  words;  but  the  cloud  passed  from  his  brow  as  he 
concluded,  and  slightly,  yet  with  something  of  reverence,  he 
bowed  his  head. 

"  And  whither  didst  thou  wend  thy  way,  my  fiery  brother  ?" 
demanded  Robert.  "  Bringest  thou  aught  of  news,  or  didst 
thou  and  Douglas  but  set  foot  in  stirrup  and  hand  on  rein  sim- 
ply from  weariness  of  quiet  ?" 

"  In  sober  truth,  'twas  even  so  ;  partly  to  mark  the  move- 
ments of  the  English,  an  they  make  a  movement,  which,  till 
Pembroke  come,  they  are  all  too  much  amazed  to  do  ;  partly 
to  see  if  in  truth  that  poltroon  Duncan  of  Fife  yet  hangs  back 
and  still  persists  in  forswearing  the  loyalty  of  his  ancestors,  and 
leaving  to  better  hands  the  proud  task  of  placing  the  crown  of 
Scotland  on  thy  head." 


THE  DAYS   OF   BBUCE.  37 

"  And  thou  art  convinced  at  hist  that  such  and  such  only  is 
his  intention  ?"  The  knight  nodded  assent,  and  Bruce  con- 
tinued, jestingly,  "  And  so  thou  mightst  have  been  long  ago, 
my  sage  brother,  hadst  thou  listened  to  me.  I  tell  thee  Earl 
Duncan  hath  a  spite  against  me,  not  for  daring  to  raise  the 
standard  of  freedom  and  proclaim  myself  a  king,  but  for  very 
hatred  of  myself.  Nay,  hast  thou  not  seen  it  thyself,  when, 
fellow-soldiers,  fellow-seekers  of  the  banquet,  tournay,  or  ball, 
he  hath  avoided,  shunned  me  ?  and  why  should  he  seek  me 
now  ?" 

"  Why  ?  does  not  Scotland  call  him,  Scotland  bid  him  gird 
his  sword  and  don  his  mail  ?  Will  not  the  dim  spectres  of  his 
loyal  line  start  from  their  very  tombs  to  call  him  to  thy  side,  or 
brand  him  traitor  and  poltroon,  with  naught  of  Duff  about  him 
but  the  name  ?  Thou  smilest." 

"  At  thy  violence,  good  brother.  Duncan  of  Fife  loves  bet- 
ter the  silken  cords  of  peace  and  pleasure,  e'en  though  those 
silken  threads  hide  chains,  than  the  trumpet's  voice  and  weight 
of  mail.  In  England  bred,  courted,  flattered  by  her  king,  'twere 
much  too  sore  a  trouble  to  excite  his  anger  and  lose  his  favor ; 
and  for  whom,  for  what  ? — to  crown  the  man  he  hateth  from 
his  soul  ?" 

"  And  knowest  thou  wherefore,  good  my  son,  in  what  thou 
hast  offended  ?" 

"  Offended,  holy  father  ?  Nay,  in  naught  unless  perchance 
a  service  rendered  when  a  boy — a  simple  service,  merely  that 
of  saving  life — hath  rendered  him  the  touchy  fool  he  is.  But 
hark  !  who  comes  ?" 

The  tramping  of  many  horses,  mingled  with  the  eager  voices 
of  men,  resounded  from  the  court-yard  as  he  spoke,  and  Sir 
Edward  strode  hastily  to  the  casement.  "  Sir  Robert  Keith 
returned  !"  he  exclaimed,  joyfully  ;  "  and  seemingly  right  well 
attended.  Litters  too — bah  !  we  want  no  more  women.  Tis 
somewhat  new  for  Keith  to  be  a  squire  of  dames.  Why,  what 
banner  is  this  ?  The  black  bear  of  Buchan — impossible  !  the 
earl  is  a  foul  Comyn.  I'll  to  the  court,  for  this  passes  my  poor 
wits."  He  turned  hastily  to  quit  the  chamber,  as  a  youth  en- 
tered, not  without  some  opposition,  it  appeared,  from  the  at- 
tendants without,  but  eagerly  he  had  burst  through  them,  and 
flung  his  plumed  helmet  from  his  beautiful  brow,  and,  after 
glancing  hastily  round  the  room,  bounded  to  the  side  of  Robert, 


38  THE   DAYS    OF    BRUCE. 

knelt  at  his  feet,  and  clasped  his  knees  without  uttering  a  syl- 
lable, voiceless  from  an  emotiolf  whose  index  was  stamped  upon 
his  glowing  features. 

"  Nigel,  by  all  that's  marvellous,  and  as  moon-stricken  as  his 
wont !  Why,  where  the  foul  fiend  hast  thou  sprung  from  ? 
Art  dumb,  thou  foolish  boy  ?  By  St.  Andrew,  these  are  times 
to  act  and  speak,  not  think  and  feel !  Whence  comest  thou  ?" 

So  spoke  the  impatient  Edward,  to  whom  the  character  of 
his  youngest  brother  had  ever  been  a  riddle,  which  it  had  been 
too  much  trouble  to  expound,  and  that  which  it  seemed  to  his 
too  careless  thought  he  ever  looked  upon  with  scorn  and  con- 
tempt. Not  so,  King  Robert ;  he  raised  him  affectionately  in 
his  arms,  and  pressed  him  to  his  heart. 

"  Thou'rt  welcome,  most,  most  welcome,  Nigel ;  as  welcome 
as  unlocked  for.  But  why  this  quick  return  from  scenes  and 
studies  more  congenial  to  thy  gentle  nature,  my  young  brother  ? 
this  fettered  land  is  scarce  a  home  for  thee ;  thy  free,  thy  fond 
imaginings  can  scarce  have  resting  here."  He  spoke  sadly, 
and  his  smile  unwittingly  was  sorrowful. 

"And  thinkest  thou,  Robert — nay,  forgive  me,  good  my 
liege — thinkest  thou,  because  I  loved  the  poet's  dream,  because 
I  turned,  in  sad  and  lonely  musing,  from  King  Edward's  court, 
I  loved  the  cloister  better  than  the  camp  ?  Oh,  do  me  not 
such  wrong  !  thou  knowest  not  the  guidings  of  my  heart ;  nor 
needs  it  now,  my  sword  shall  better  plead  my  cause  than  can 
my  tongue."  He  turned  away  deeply  and  evidently  pained, 
and  a  half  laugh  from  Sir  Edward  prevented  the  king's  reply. 

"  Well  crowed,  my  pretty  fledgling,"  he  said,  half  jesting, 
half  in  scorn.  "  But  knowest  thou,  to  fight  in  very  earnest  is 
something  different  than  to  read  and  chant  it  in  a  minstrel's 
lay  ?  Better  hie  thee  back  to  Florence,  boy ;  the  mail  suit 
and  crested  helm  are  not  for  such  as  thee — better  shun  them 
now,  than  after  they  are  donned." 

"  How  !  darest  thou,  Edward  ?  Edward,  tempt  me  not  too 
far,"  exclaimed  Nigel,  his  cheek  flushing,  and  springing  towards 
him,  his  hand  upon  his  half-drawn  sword.  "  By  heaven,  wert 
thou  not  my  mother's  son,  I  would  compel  thee  to  retract  these 
words,  injurious,  unjust !  How  darest  thou  judge  me  coward, 
till  my  cowardice  is  proved  ?  Thy  blood  is  not  more  red  than 
mine." 

"Peace,  peace!   what  meaneth  this  unseemly  broil?"  said 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  39 

Robert,  hastily  advancing  between  them,  for  the  dark  features 
of  Edward  were  lowering  in  wrath,  and  Nigel  was  excited  to 
unwonted  fierceness.  "  Edward,  begone  !  and  as  thou  saidst, 
see  to  Sir  Robert  Keith — what  news  he  brings.  .Nigel,  on  thy 
love,  thy  allegiance  so  lately  proffered,  if  I  read  thy  greeting 
right,  I  pray  thee  heed  not  his  taunting  words.  I  do  not  doubt 
thee  ;  'twas  for  thy  happiness,  not  for  thy  gallantry,  I  trembled. 
Look  not  thus  dejected ;"  he  held  out  his  hand,  which  his 
brother  knelt  to  salute.  "  Nay,  nay,  thou  foolish  boy,  forget 
my  new  dignity  a  while,  and  now  that  rude  brawler  has  de- 
parted, tell  me  in  sober  wisdom,  how  earnest  thou  here  ?  How 
didst  thou  know  I  might  have  need  of  thee  ?"  A  quick  blush 
suffused  the  cheek  of  the  young  man  ;  he  hesitated,  evidently 
confused.  "  Why,  what  ails  thee,  boy  ?  By  St.  Andrew, 
Nigel,  I  do  believe  thou  hast  never  quitted  Scotland." 

"And  if  I  have  not,  my  lord,  what  wilt  thou  deem  me  ?" 

"  A  very  strangely  wayward  boy,  not  knowing  his  own  mind," 
replied  the  king,  smiling.  "  Yet  why  should  I  say  so  ?  I 
never  asked  thy  confidence,  never  sought  it,  or  in  any  way  re- 
turned or  appreciated  thy  boyish  love,  and  why  should  I  deem 
thee  wayward,  never  inquiring  into  thy  projects — passing  thee 
by,  perchance,  as  a  wild  visionary,  much  happier  than  myself?" 

"  And  thou  wilt  think  me  yet  more  a  visionary,  I  fear  me, 
Robert ;  yet  thine  interest  is  too  dear  to  pass  unanswered," 
rejoined  Nigel,  after  glancing  round  and  perceiving  they  were 
alone,  for  the  abbot  had  departed  with  Sir  Edward,  seeking  to 
tame  his  reckless  spirit. 

"  Know,  then,  to  aid  me  in  keeping  aloof  from  the  tyrant  of 
my  country,  whom  instinctively  I  hated,  I  confined  myself  to 
books  and  such  lore  yet  more  than  my  natural  inclination 
prompted,  though  that  was  strong  enough — I  had  made  a 
solemn  vow,  rather  to  take  the  monk's  cowl  and  frock,  than  re- 
ceive knighthood  from  the  hand  of  Edward  of  England,  or  raise 
my  sword  at  his  bidding.  My  whole  soul  "yearned  towards  the 
country  of  my  fathers,  that  country  which  was  theirs  by  royal 
right ;  and  when  the  renown  of  Wallace  reached  my  ears, 
when,  in  my  waking  and  sleeping  dreams,  I  beheld  the  patriot 
struggling  for  freedom,  peace,  the  only  one  whose  arm  had 
struck  for  Scotland,  whose  tongue  had  dared  to  speak  resist- 
ance, I  longed  wildly,  intensely,  vainly,  to  burst  the  thraldom 
which  held  my  race,  and  seek  for  death  beneath  the  patriot 


40  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

banner.  I  longed,  yet  dared  not.  My  own  death  were  wel- 
come ;  but  mother,  father,  brothers,  sisters,  all  were  perilled, 
had  I  done  so.  I  stood,  I  deemed,  alone  in  my  enthusiast 
dreams ;  those  I  loved  best,  acknowledged,  bowed  before  the 
man  my  very  spirit  loathed ;  and  how  dared  I,  a  boy,  a  child, 
stand  forth  arraigning  and  condemning  ?  But  wherefore  art 
thou  thus,  Robert  ?  oh,  what  has  thus  moved  thee  ?" 

Wrapped  in  his  own  earnest  words  and  thoughts,  Nigel  had 
failed  until  that  moment  to  perceive  the  effect  of  his  words 
upon  his  brother.  Robert's  head  had  sunk  upon  his  hand,  and 
his  whole  frame  shook  beneath  some  strong  emotion  ;  evidently 
striving  to  subdue  it,  some  moments  elapsed  ere  he  could  re- 
ply, and  then  only  in  accents  of  bitter  self-reproach.  "  Why, 
why  did  not  such  thoughts  come  to  me,  instead  of  thee  ?"  he 
said.  "  My  youth  had  not  wasted  then  in  idle  folly — worse, 
oh,  worse — in  slavish  homage,  coward  indecision,  flitting  like 
the  moth  around  the  destructive  flame ;  and  while  I  deemed 
thee  buried  in  romantic  dreams,  all  a  patriot's  blood  was  rush- 
ing in  thy  veins,  while  mine  was  dull  and  stagnant." 

"  But  to  flow  forth  the  brighter,  my  own  brother,"  inter- 
rupted Nigel,  earnestly.  "  Oh,  I  have  watched  thee,  studied 
thee,  even  as  I  loved  thee,  long ;  and  I  have  hoped,  felt,  known 
that  this  day  would  dawn ;  that  thou  wouldst  rise  for  Scotland, 
and  she  would  rise  for  thee.  Ah,  now  thou  smilest  as  thyself, 
and  I  will  to  my  tale.  The  patriot  died — let  me  not  utter 
how  ;  no  Scottish  tongue  should  speak  those  words,  save  with 
the  upraised  arm  and  trumpet  shout  of  vengeance !  I  could 
not  rest  in  England  then  ;  I  could  not  face  the  tyrant  who 
dared  proclaim  and  execute  as  traitor  the  noblest  hero,  purest 
patriot,  that  ever  walked  this  earth.  But  men  said  I  sought 
the  lyric  schools,  the  poet's  haunts  in  Provence,  and  I  wel- 
comed the  delusion ;  but  it  was  to  Scotland  that  I  came,  un- 
known, and  silently,  to  mark  if  with  her  Wallace  all  life  and 
soul  had  fled.  I  saw  enough  to  know  that  were  there  but  a 
fitting  head,  her  hardy  sons  would  struggle  yet  for  freedom — 
but  not  yet ;  that  chief  art  thou,  and  at  the  close  of  the  last 
year  I  took  passage  to  Denmark,  intending  to  rest  there  till 
Scotland  called  me." 

"  And  'tis  thence  thou  comest,  Nigel  ?  Can  it  be,  intelli- 
gence of  my  movements  hath  reached  so  far  north  already  ?" 
inquired  the  king,  somewhat  surprised  at  the  abruptness  of  his 
brother's  pause. 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  41 

"  Not  so,  my  liege.  The  vessel  which  bore  me  was  wrecked 
off  the  breakers  of  Buchan,  and  cast  me  back  again  to  the  arms 
of  Scotland.  I  found  hospitality,  shelter,  kindness  ;  nay  more, 
were  this  a  time  and  place  to  speak  of  happy,  trusting  love — " 
he  added,  turning  away  from  the  Bruce's  penetrating  eye,  "  and 
week  after  week  passed,  and  found  me  still  an  inmate  of  the 
Tower  of  Buchan." 

"  Buchan  !"  interrupted  the  king,  hastily  ;  "  the  castle  of  a 
Comyn,  and  thou  speakest  of  love  !" 

"  Of  as  true,  as  firm-hearted  a  Scottish  patriot,  my  liege,  as 
ever  lived  in  the  heart  of  woman — one  that  has  naught  of 
Comyn  about  her  or  her  fair  children  but  the  name,  as  speedily 
thou  wilt  haye  proof.  But  in  good  time  is  my  tale  come  to  a 
close,  for  hither  comes  good  Sir  Robert,  and  other  noble  knights, 
who,  by  their  eager  brows,  methinks,  have  matters  of  graver 
import  for  thy  grace's  ear." 

They  entered  as  he  spoke.  The  patriot  nobles  who,  at  the 
first  call  of  their  rightful  king,  had  gathered  round  his  person, 
few  in  number,  yet  firm  in  heart,  ready  to  lay  down  fame,  for- 
tune, life,  .beside  his  standard,  rather  than  acknowledge  the 
foreign  foe,  who,  setting  aside  all  principles  of  knightly  honor, 
knightly  faith,  sought  to  claim  their  country  as  his  own,  their 
persons  as  his  slaves.  Eager  was  the  greeting  of  each  and  all 
to  the  youthful  Nigel,  mingled  with  some  surprise.  Their  con- 
ference with  the  king  was  but  brief,  and  as  it  comprised 
matters  more  of  speculation  than  of  decided  import,  we  will 
pass  on  to  a  later  period  of  the  same  evening. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"  BUCHAN  !  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  sayest  thou,  Athelbert  ? 
nay,  'tis  scarce  possible,"  said  a  fair  and  noble-looking  woman, 
still  in  the  bloom  of  life,  though  early  youth  had  passed,  paus- 
ing on  her  way  to  the  queen's  apartment,  to  answer  some  in- 
formation given  by  the  senior  page. 

"  Indeed,  madam,  'tis  even  so ;  she  arrived  but  now,  escorted 
by  Sir  Robert  Keith  and  his  followers,  in  addition  to  some  fifty 
of  the  retainers  of  Buchan." 


42  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  ' 

"  And  hath  she  lodging  within  the  palace  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam ;  an  it  please  you,  I  will  conduct  you  to  her, 
'tis  but  a  step  beyond  the  royal  suite." 

She  made  him  a  sign  of  assent,  and  followed  him  slowly,  as 
if  musingly. 

"  It  is  strange,  it  is  very  strange,"  she  thought,  "  yet  scarcely 
so ;  she  was  ever  in  heart  and  soul  a  patriot,  nor  has  she  seen 
enough  of  her  husband  to  change  such  sentiments.  Yet,  for 
her  own  sake,  perchance  it  had  been  better  had  she  not  taken 
this  rash  step ;  'tis  a  desperate  game  we  play,  and  the  fewer 
lives  and  fortunes  wrecked  the  better." 

Her  cogitations  were  interrupted  by  hearing  her  name  an- 
nounced in  a  loud  voice  by  the  page,  and  finding  herself  in 
presence  of  the  object  of  her  thoughts. 

"  Isabella,  dearest  Isabella,  'tis  even  thine  own  dear  self.  I 
deemed  the  boy's  tale  well-nigh  impossible,"  was  her  hasty  ex- 
clamation, as  with  a  much  quicker  step  she  advanced  towards 
the  countess,  who  met  her  half-way,  and  warmly  returned  her 
embrace,  saying  as  she  did  so — 

"  This  is  kind,  indeed,  dearest  Mary,  to  welcome  me  so  soon ; 
'tis  long,  long  years  since  we  have  met ;  but  they  have  left  as 
faint  a  shadow  on  thy  affections  as  on  mine." 

"Indeed,  thou  judgest  me  truly,  Isabella.  Sorrow,  me- 
thinks,  doth  but  soften  the  heart  and  render  the  memory  of 
young  affections,  youthful  pleasures,  the  more  vivid,  the  more 
lasting :  we  think  of  what  we  have  been,  or  what  we  are,  and 
the  contrast  heightens  into  perfect  bliss  that  which  at  the  time, 
perchance,  we  deemed  but  perishable  joy." 

"  Hast  thou  too  learnt  such  lesson,  Mary  ?  I  hoped  its  lore 
was  all  unknown  to  thee." 

"  It  was,  indeed,  deferred  so  long,  so  blessedly,  I  dared  to 
picture  perfect  happiness  on  earth ;  but  since  my  husband's 
hateful  captivity,  Isabella,  there  can  be  little  for  his  wife  but 
anxiety  and  dread.  But  these — are  these  thine  ?"  she  added, 
gazing  admiringly  and  tearfully  on  Agnes  and  Alan,  who  had 
at  their  mother's  sign  advanced  from  the  embrasure,  where 
they  had  held  low  yet  earnest  converse,  and  gracefully  acknowl- 
edged the  stranger's  notice.  "  Oh,  wherefore  bring  them  here, 
my  friend  ?" 

"  Wherefore,  lady  ?"  readily  and  impetuously  answered 
Alan ;  "  art  thou  a  friend  of  Isabella  of  Buchan,  and  asketh 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKTJCE.  43 

wherefore  ?  Where  our  sovereign  is,  should  not  his  subjects 
be?" 

"  Thy  mother's  friend  and  sovereign's  sister,  noble  boy,  and 
yet  I  grieve  to  see  thee  here.  The  Bruce  is  but  in  name  a 
king,  uncrowned  as  yet  and  unanointed.  His  kingdom  bounded 
by  the  confines  of  this  one  fair  county,  struggling  for  every 
acre  at  the  bright  sword's  point." 

"  The  greater  glory  for  his  subjects,  lady,"  answered  the 
youth.  "  The  very  act  of  proclaiming  himself  long  removes 
the  chains  of  Scotland,  and  flings  down  her  gage.  Fear  not, 
he  shall  be  king  ere  long  in  something  more  than  name." 

"  And  is  it  thus  a  Comyn  speaks  ?"  said  the  Lady  Camp- 
bell. "  Ah,  were  the  idle  feuds  of  petty  minds  thus  laid  at 
rest,  bold  boy,  thy  dreams  might  e'en  be  truth ;  but  knowest 
thou,  young  man — knowest  thou,  Isabella,  the  breach  between 
the  Comyn  and  the  Bruce  is  widened,  and,  alas  !  by  blood  ?" 

"  Aye,  lady ;  but  what  boots  it  ?  A  traitor  should  have  no 
name,  no  kin,  or  those  who  bear  that  name  should  wash  away 
their  race's  stain  by  nobler  deeds  of  loyalty  and  valor." 

"  It  would  be  well  did  others  think  with  thee,"  replied  Lady 
Campbell ;  "  yet  I  fear  me  in  such  sentiments  the  grandson  of 
the  loyal  Fife  will  stand  alone.  Isabella,  dearest  Isabella,"  she 
added,  laying  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  countess,  and  draw- 
ing her  away  from  her  children,  "  hast  thou  done  well  in  this 
decision  ?  hast  thou  listened  to  the  calmer  voice  of  prudence 
as  was  thy  wont  ?  hast  thou  thought  on  all  the  evils  thou 
mayest  draw  upon  thy  head,  and  -upon  these,  so  lovely  and  so 
dear  ?" 

"  Mary,  I  have  thought,  weighed,  pondered,  and  yet  I  am 
here,"  answered  the  countess,  firmly,  yet  in  an  accent  that  still 
bespoke  some  inward  struggle.  "  I  know,  I  feel  all,  all  that 
thou  wouldst  urge ;  that  I  am  exposing  my  brave  boy  to  death, 
perchance,  by  a  father's  hand,  bringing  him  hither  to  swear 
fealty,  to  raise  his  sword  for  the  Bruce,  in  direct  opposition  to 
my  husband's  politics,  still  more  to  his  Avill ;  yet,  Mary,  there 
are  mutual  duties  between  a  parent  and  a  child.  My  poor  boy 
has  ever  from  his  birth  been  fatherless.  No  kindly  word,  no 
glowing  smile  has  ever  met  his  infancy,  his  boyhood.  He 
scarce  can  know  his  father — the  love,  the  reverence  of  a  son  it 
would  have  been  such  joy  to  teach.  Left  to  my  sole  care, 
could  I  instil  sentiments  other  than  those  a  father's  lips  be- 


4A  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

stowed  on  me  ?  Could  I  instruct  him  in  aught  save  love,  de- 
votion to  his  country,  to  her  rights,  her  king  ?  I  have  done 
this  so  gradually,  my  friend,  that  for  the  burst  of  loyalty,  of 
impetuous  gallantry,  which  ansAvered  Sir  Robert  Keith's  ap- 
peal, I  was  well-nigh  unprepared.  My  father,  my  noble  father 
breathes  in  my  boy  ;  and  oh,  Mary,  better,  better  far  lose  him 
on  the  battle-field,  struggling  for  Scotland's  freedom,  glorying 
in  his  fate,  rejoicing,  blessing  me  for  lessons  I  have  taught,  than 
see  him  as  my  husband,  as  my  brother — alas !  alas  !  that  I 
should  live  to  say  it — cringing  as  slaves  before  the  footstool  of 
a  tyrant  and  oppressor.  Had  he  sought  it,  had  he  loved — 
treated  me  as  a  wife,  Mary,  I  would  have  given  my  husband 
all — all  a  woman's  duty — all,  save  the  dictates  of  my  soul,  but 
even  this  he  trampled  on,  despised,  rejected  ;  and  shall  I,  dare 
I  then  forget,  oppose  the  precepts  of  that  noble  heart,  that 
patriot  spirit  which  breathed  into  mine  the  faint  reflection  of 
itself? — offend  the  dead,  the  hallowed  dead,  my  father — the 
heart  that  loved  me  ?" 

She  paused,  in  strong,  and  for  the  moment  overpowering, 
emotion.  The  clear,  rich  tones  had  never  faltered  till  she  spoke 
of  him  beloved  even  in  death — faltered  not,  even  when  she 
spoke  of  death  as  the  portion  of  her  child  ;  it  was  but  the 
quivering  of  lip  and  eye  by  which  the  anguish  of  that  thought 
could  have  been  ascertained.  Lady  Campbell  clasped  her 
hand. 

"  Thou  hast  in  very  truth  silenced  me,  my  Isabella,"  she 
said  ;  "  there  is  no  combating  with  thoughts  as  these.  Thine 
is  still  the  same  noble  soul,  exalted  mind  that  I  knew  in  youth : 
sorrow  and  time  have  had  no  power  on  these." 

"  Save  to  chasten  and  to  purify,  I  trust,"  rejoined  the  coun- 
tess, in  her  own  calm  tone.  "  Thrown  back  upon  my  own 
strength,  it  must  have  gathered  force,  dear  Mary,  or  have  per- 
ished altogether.  But  thou  speakest,  methinks,  but  too  de- 
spondingly  of  our  sovereign's  prospects — are  they  indeed  so 
desperate  ?" 

"  Desperate,  indeed,  Isabella.  Even  his  own  family,  with 
the  sole  exception  of  that  rash  madman,  Edward,  must  look 
upon  it  thus.  How  thinkest  thou  Edward  of  England  will 
brook  this  daring  act  of  defiance,  of  what  he  will  deem  rank 
apostasy  and  traitorous  rebellion  ?  Aged,  infirm  as  he  is  now, 
he  will  not  permit  this  bold  attempt  to  pass  unpunished.  The 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  45 

whole  strength  of  England  will  be  gathered  together,  and  pour 
its  devastating  fury  on  this  devoted  land.  And  what  to  this 
has  Robert  to  oppose  ?  Were  he  undisputed  sovereign  of 
Scotland,  we  might,  without  cowardice,  be  permitted  to  trem- 
ble, threatened  as  he  is ;  but  confined,  surrounded  by  English, 
with  scarce  a  town  or  fort  to  call  his  own,  his  enterprise  is  mad- 
ness, Isabella,  patriotic  as  it  may  be." 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  so,  Mary.  Has  he  not  some  noble  barons 
already  by  his  side  ?  will  not,  nay,  is  not  Scotland  rising  to 
support  him  ?  hath  he  not  the  hearts,  the  prayers,  the  swords 
of  all  whose  mountain  homes  and  freeborn  rights  are  dearer 
than  the  yoke  of  Edward  ?  and  hath  he  not,  if  rumor  speaks 
aright,  within  himself  a  host — not  mere  valor  alone,  but 
prudence,  foresight,  military  skill — all,  all  that  marks  a  gen- 
eral ?" 

"As  rumor  speaks.  Thou  dost  not  know  him  then?"  in- 
quired Lady  Campbell. 

"  How  could  I,  dearest  ?  Hast  thou  forgotten  thy  anxiety 
that  we  should  meet,  when  we  were  last  together,  holding  at 
naught,  in  thy  merry  mood,  my  betrothment  to  Lord  John — 
that  I  should  turn  him  from  his  wandering  ways,  and  make  him 
patriotic  as  myself?  Thou  seest,  Mary,  thy  brother  needed 
not  such  influence." 

"  Of  a  truth,  no,"  answered  her  friend ;  "  for  his  present 
partner  is  a  very  contrast  to  thyself,  and  would  rather,  by  her 
weak  and  trembling  fears,  dissuade  him  from  his  purpose  than 
inspire  and  encourage  it.  Well  do  I  remember  that  fancy  of 
my  happy  childhood,  and  still  I  wish  it  had  been  so,  all  idle  as 
it  seems — strange  that  ye  never  met." 

"  Nay,  save  thyself,  Mary,  thy  family  resided  more  in  Eng- 
land than  in  Scotland,  and  for  the  last  seventeen  years  the  ter- 
ritory of  Buchan  has  been  my  only  home,  with  little  interrup- 
tion to  my  solitude  ;  yet  I  have  heard  much  of  late  of  the  Earl 
of  Carrick,  and  from  whom  thinkest  thou? — thou  canst  not 
guess — even  from  thy  noble  brother  Nigel." 

"  Nigel !"  repeated  Lady  Mary,  much  surprised. 

"  Even  so,  sweet  sister,  learning  dearer  lore  and  lovelier  tales 
than  even  Provence  could  instil ;  'tis  not  the  land,  it  is  the  heart 
where  poesie  dwells,"  rejoined  Nigel  Bruce,  gayly,  advancing 
from  the  side  of  Agnes,  where  he  had  been  lingering  the  greater 
part  of  the  dialogue  between  his  sister  and  the  countess,  and 


46  THE  DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

now  joined  them.  "  Aye,  Mary,"  he  continued,  tenderly,  "  my 
own  land  is  dearer  than  the  land  of  song." 

"  And  dear  art  thou  to  Scotland,  Nigel ;  but  I  knew  not  thy 
fond  dreams  and  wild  visions  could  find  resting  amid  the  desert 
crags  and  barren  plains  of  Buchan." 

"  Yet  have  we  not  been  idle.  Dearest  Agnes,  wilt  thou  not 
speak  for  me  ?  the  viol  hath  not  been  mute,  nor  the  fond  harp 
unstruno- ;  and  deeper,  dearer  lessons  have  thy  lips  instilled, 
than  could  have  flowed  from  fairest  lips  and  sweetest  songs  of 
Provence.  Nay,  blush  not,  dearest.  Mary,  thou  must  love 
this  gentle  girl,"  he  added,  as  he  led  her  forward,  and  laid  the 
hand  of  Agnes  in  his  sister's. " 

"  Is  it  so  ?  then  may  we  indeed  be  united,  though  not  as  I 
in  my  girlhood  dreamed,  my  Isabella,"  said  Lady  Campbell, 
kindly  parting  the  clustering  curls,  and  looking  fondly  on  the 
maiden's  blushing  face.  She  was  about  to  speak  again,  when 
steps  were  heard  along  the  corridor,  and  unannounced,  unat- 
tended, save  by  the  single  page  who  drew  aside  the  hangings, 
King  Robert  entered.  He  had  doffed  the  armor  in  which  we 
«aw  him  first,  for  a  plain  yet  rich  suit  of  dark  green  velvet,  cut 
and  slashed  with  cloth  of  gold,  and  a  long  mantle  of  the  richest 
crimson,  secured  at  his  throat  by  a  massive  golden  clasp,  from 
which  gleamed  the  glistening  rays  of  a  large  emerald  ;  a  brooch 
of  precious  stones,  surrounded  by  diamonds,  clasped  the  white 
ostrich  feather  in  his  cap,  and  the  shade  of  the  drooping  plume, 
heightened  perhaps  by  the  advance  of  evening,  somewhat  ob- 
scured his  features,  but  there  was  that  in  his  majestic  mien,  in 
the  noble  yet  dignified  bearing,  which  could  not  for  one  mo- 
ment be  mistaken  ;  and  it  needed  not  the  word  of  Nigel  to 
cause  the  youthful  Alan  to  spring  from  the  couch  where  he 
had  listlessly  thrown  himself,  and  stand,  suddenly  silenced  and 
abashed. 

"  My  liege  and  brother,"  exclaimed  Lady  Campbell,  eagerly, 
as  she  hastily  led  forward  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  who  sunk 
at  once  on  her  knee,  overpowered  by  the  emotion  of  a  patriot, 
thinking  only  of  her  country,  only  of  her  sovereign,  as  one  in- 
spired by  heaveji  to  attempt  her  rescue,  and  give  her  freedom, 
"  How  glad  am  I  that  it  has  fallen  on  me  to  present  to  your 
grace,  in  the  noble  Countess  of  Buchan,  the  chosen  friend  of 
my  girlhood,  the  only  descendant  of  the  line  of  Macduff  worthy 
to  bear  that  name.  Allied  as  unhappily  she  is  to  the  family  of 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUOE.  47 

Corayn,  yet  still,  still  most  truly,  gloriously,  a  patriot  and  loyal 
subject  of  your  grace,  as  her  being  here,  with  all  she  holds  most 
dear,  most  precious  upon  earth,  will  prove  far  better  than  her 
friend's  poor  words." 

"  Were  they  most  rich  in  eloquence,  Mary,  believe  me,  we 
yet  should  need  them  not,  in  confirmation  of  this  most  noble 
lady's  faithfulness  and  worth,"  answered  the  king,  with  ready 
courtesy,  and  in  accents  that  were  only  too  familiar  to  the  ear 
of  Isabella.  She  started,  and  gazed  up  for  the  first  time,  see- 
ing fully  the  countenance  of  the  sovereign.  "  Rise,  lady,  we 
do  beseech  you,  rise ;  we  are  not  yet  so  familiar  with  the  forms 
of  royalty  as  to  behold  without  some  shame  a  noble  lady  at 
our  feet.  Nay,  thou  art  pale,  very  pale ;  thy  coming  hither 
hath  been  too  rapid,  too  hurried  for  thy  strength,  methinks ;  I 
do  beseech  you,  sit."  Gently  he  raised  her,  and  leading  her 
gallantly  to  one  of  the  cumbrous  couches  near  them,  placed  her 
upon  it,  and  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Ha  !  that  is  well ;  thou 
art  better  now.  Knowest  thou,  Mary,  thine  office  would  have 
been  more  wisely  performed,  hadst  thou  presented  me  to  the 
Countess  of  Buchan,  not  her  to  me." 

"  Thou  speakest  darkly,  good  my  liege,  yet  I  joy  to  see  thee 
thus  jestingly  inclined." 

"  Nay,  'tis  no  jest,  fair  sister ;  the  Countess  of  Buchan  and  I 
have  met  before,  though  she  knew  me  but  as  a  wild,  heedless 
stripling  first,  and  a  moody,  discontented  soldier  afterwards.  I 
owe  thee  much,  gentle  lady ;  much  for  the  night's  lodging  thy 
hospitality  bestowed,  though  at  the  time  my  mood  was  such  it 
had  no  words  of  courtesy,  no  softening  fancy,  even  to  thyself; 
much  for  the  kindness  thou  didst  bestow,  not  only  then,  but 
when  fate  first  threw  us  together ;  and  therefore  do  I  seek  thee, 
lady — therefore  would  I  speak  to  thee,  as  the  friend  of  former 
years,  not  as  the  sovereign  of  Scotland,  and  as  such  received 
by  thee."  He  spoke  gravely,  with  somewhat  of  sadness  in  his 
rich  voice.  Perhaps  it  was  well  for  the  countess  no  other  an- 
swer than  a  grateful  bow  was  needed,  for  the  sudden  faintness 
which  had  withdrawn  the  color  from  her  cheek  yet  lingered, 
sufficient  to  render  the  exertion  of  speaking  painful. 

"  Yet  pause  one  moment,  my  liege,"  said  Nigel,  playfully 
leading  Alan  forward ;  "  give  me  one  moment,  ere  you  fling 
aside  your  kingly  state.  Here  is  a  young  soldier,  longing  to 
rush  into  the  very  thickest  of  a  fight  that  may  win  a  golden 


48  THE    DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

spur  and  receive  knighthood  at  your  grace's  hand  ;  a  doughty 
spokesman,  who  was  to  say  a  marvellously  long  speech  of  duty, 
homage,  and  such  like,  but  whose  tongue  at  sight  of  thee  has 
turned  traitor  to  its  cause.  Have  mercy  on  him,  good  my 
lieo-e;  I'll  answer  that  his  arm  is  less  a  traitor  than  his  tongue." 

"  We  do  not  doubt  it,  Nigel,  and  will  accept  thy  words  for 
his.  Be  satisfied,  young  sir,  the  willing  homage  of  all  true  men 
is  precious  to  King  Robert.  And  thou,  fair  maiden,  wilt  thou, 
too,  follow  thy  monarch's  fortunes,  cloudy  though  they  seem? 
we  read  thine  answer  in  thy  blushing  cheek,  and  thus  we  thank 
thee,  maiden." 

He  threw  aside  his  plumed  cap,  and  gallantly  yet  respectfully 
saluted  the  fair,  soft  cheek ;  confused  yet  pleased,  Agnes  looked 
doubtingly  towards  Nigel,  who,  smiling  a  happy,  trusting,  joy- 
ous smile,  led  her  a  few  minutes  apart,  whispered  some  fond 
words,  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  summoning  Alan,  they 
left  the  room  together. 

"  Sir  Robert  Keith  informs  me,  noble  lady,"  said  the  king, 
again  addressing  Isabella,  "  that  it  is  your  determination  to  rep- 
resent, in  your  own  proper  person,  the  ancient  line  of  Duff  at 
the  approaching  ceremony,  and  demand  from  our  hands,  as 
such  representative,  the  privilege  granted  by  King  Malcolm  to 
your  noble  ancestor  and  his  descendants,  of  placing  on  the  sov- 
ereign's brow  the  coronet  of  Scotland.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  I  do  indeed  most  earnestly  demand  this  privilege,  my  gra- 
cious liege,"  answered  the  countess,  firmly ;  "  demand  it  as  a 
right,  a  glorious  right,  made  mine  by  the  weak  and  fickle  con- 
duct of  my  brother.  Alas  !  the  only  male  descendant  of  that 
line  which  until  now  hath  never  known  a  traitor." 

"  But  hast  thou  well  considered,  lady  ?  There  is  danger  in 
this  act,  danger  even  to  thyself." 

"  My  liege,  that  there  is  danger  threatening  all  the  patriots 
of  Scotland,  monarch  or  serf,  male  or  female,  I  well  know ;  yet 
in  what  does  it  threaten  me  more  in  this  act,  than  in  the  mere 
acknowledgment  of  the  Earl  of  Carrick  as  my  sovereign  ?" 

"  It  will  excite  the  rage  of  Edward  of  England  against  thy- 
self individually,  lady ;  I  know  him  well,  only  too  well.  All 
who  join  in  giving  countenance  and  aid  to  my  inauguration  will 
be  proclaimed,  hunted,  placed  under  the  ban  of  traitors,  and,  if 
unfortunately  taken,  will  in  all  probability  share  the  fate  of 
Wallace."  His  voice  became  husky  with  strong  emotion. 


THE    DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  4:9 

"  There  is  no  exception  in  his  sweeping  tyranny  ;  youth  and 
age,  noble  and  serf,  of  either  sex,  of  either  land,  if  they  raise 
the  sword  for  Bruce  and  freedom,  will  fall  by  the  hangman's 
cord  or  headsman's  axe  ;  and  I,  alas !  must  look  on  and  bear, 
for  I  have  neither  men  nor  power  to  avert  such  fate  ;  and  that 
hand  which  places  on  my  head  the  crown,  death,  death,  a 
cruel  death,  will  be  the  doom  of  its  patriot  owner.  Think, 
think  on  this,  and  oh,  retract  thy  noble  resolution,  ere  it  be 
too  late." 

"  Is  she  who  gives  the  crown  in  greater  danger,  good  my 
liege,  than  he  who  wears  it  ?"  demanded  the  countess,  with  a 
calm  and  quiet  smile. 

"  Nay,"  he  answered,  smiling  likewise  for  the  moment,  "  but 
I  were  worse  than  traitor,  did  I  shrink  from  Scotland  in  her 
need,  and  refuse  her  diadem,  in  fear,  forsooth,  of  death  at  Ed- 
ward's hands.  No  !  I  have  held  back  too  long,  and  now  will 
I  not  turn  back  till  Scotland's  freedom  is  achieved,  or  Robert 
Bruce  lies  with  the  slain.  Repentance  for  the  past,  hope,  am- 
bition for  the  future  ;  a  firm  heart  and  iron  frame,  a  steady  arm 
and  sober  mood,  to  meet  the  present — I  have  these,  sweet  lady, 
to  fit  and  nerve  me  for  the  task,  but  not  such  hast  thou.  I 
doubt  not  thy  patriot  soul ;  perchance  'twas  thy  lip  that  first 
awoke  the  slumbering  fire  within  my  own  breast,  and  though 
a  while  forgotten,  recalled,  when  again  I  looked  on  thee,  after 
Falkirk's  fatal  battle,  with  the  charge,  the  solemn  charge  of 
Wallace  yet  ringing  in  mine  ears.  Yet,  lady,  noble  lady,  tempt 
not  the  fearful  fate  which,  shouldst  thou  fall  into  Edward's 
hands,  I  know  too  well  will  be  thine  own.  I  dare  not  promise 
sure  defence  from  his  o'erwhelming  hosts  :  on  every  side  they 
compass  me.  I  see  sorrow  and  death  for  all  I  love,  all  who 
swear  fealty  to  me.  I  shall  succeed  in  the  end,  for  heaven,  just 
heaven  will  favor  the  righteous  cause  ;  but  trouble  and  anguish 
must  be  my  lot  ere  then,  and  I  would  save  those  I  can.  Re- 
main with  us  an  thou  wilt,  gratefully  I  accept  the  homage  so 
nobly  and  unhesitatingly  tendered ;  but  still  I  beseech  thee, 
lady,  expose  not  thy  noble  self  to  the  blind  wrath  of  Edward, 
as  thou  surely  wilt,  if  from  thy  hand  I  receive  my  country's 
crown." 

"  My  liege,"  answered  the  countess,  in  that  same  calm,  quiet 
tone,  "  I  have  heard  thee  with  a  deep  grateful  sense  of  the  no- 
ble feeling,  the  kindly  care  which  dictates  thy  words  ;  yet 

3 


50  THE   DATS    OF   BRUCE. 

pardon  me,  if  they  fail  to  shake  my  resolution — a  resolution 
not  lightly  formed,  not  the  mere  excitement  of  a  patriotic  mo- 
ment, but  one  based  on  the  principles  of  years,  on  the  firm, 
solemn  conviction,  that  in  taking  this  sacred  office  on  myself, 
the  voice  of  the  dead  is  obeyed,  the  memory  of  the  dead,  the 
noble  dead,  preserved  from  stain,  inviolate  and  pure.  Would 
my  father  have  kept  aloof  in  such  an  hour — refused  to  place 
on  the  brow  of  Scotland's  patriot  king  the  diadem  of  his  fore- 
fathers— held  back  in  fear  of  Edward  ?  Oh  !  would  that  his  iron 
hand  and  loyal  heart  were  here  instead  of  mine  ;  gladly  would 
I  lay  me  down  in  his  cold  home  and  place  him  at  thy  side, 
might  such  things  be  ;  but  as  it  is,  my  liege,  I  do  beseech  thee, 
cease  to  urge  me.  I  have  but  a  woman's  frame,  a  woman's 
heart,  and  yet  death  hath  no  fear  for  me.  Let  Edward  work 
his  will,  if  heaven  ordain  I  fall  into  his  ruthless  hands ;  death 
comes  but  once,  'tis  but  a  momentary  pang,  and  rest  and  bliss 
shall  follow.  My  father's  spirit  breathes  within  me,  and  as  he 
would,  so  let  his  daughter  do.  Tis  not  now  a  time  to  depart 
from  ancient  forms,  my  gracious  sovereign,  and  there  are  those 
in  Scotland  who  scarce  would  deem  thee  crowned,  did  not  the 
blood  of  Fife  perform  that  holy  office." 

"  And  this,  then,  noble  lady,  is  thy  firm  resolve — I  may  not 
hope  to  change  it  ?" 

"  'Tis  firm  as  the  ocean  rock,  my  liege.  I  do  not  sue  thee 
to  permit  my  will ;  the  blood  of  Macduff,  which  rushes  in  my 
veins,  doth  mark  it  as  my  right,  and  as  my  right  I  do  demand 
it."  She  stood  in  her  majestic  beauty,  proudly  and  firmly  be- 
fore him,  and  unconsciously  the  king  acknowledged  and  revered 
the  dauntless  spirit  that  lovely  form  enshrined. 

"  Lady,"  he  said,  raising  her  hand  with  reverence  to  his  lips, 
"  do  as  thou  wilt :  a  weaker  spirit  would  have  shrunk  at  once 
in  terror  from  the  very  thought  of  such  open  defiance  to  King 
Edward.  I  should  have  known  the  mind  that  framed  such 
daring  purpose  would  never  shrink  from  its  fulfilment,  however 
danger  threatened  ;  enough,  we  know  thy  faithfulness  and 
worth,  and  where  to  seek  for  brave  and  noble  counsel  in  the 
hour  of  need.  And  now,  may  it  be  our  privilege  to  present 
thee  to  our  queen,  sweet  lady  ?  We  shall  rejoice  to  see  thee 
ever  near  her  person." 

"  I  pray  your  grace  excuse  me  for  this  night,"  answered  the 
countess ;  "  we  have  made  some  length  of  way  to-day,  and,  if  it 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  51 

please  you,  I  would  seek  rest.     Agnes  shall  supply  my  place  ; 
Mary,  thou  wilt  guard  her,  wilt  thou  not  ?" 

"  Nay,  be  mine  the  grateful  task,"  said  the  king,  gayly  taking 
the  maiden's  hand,  and,  after  a  few  words  of  courtesy,  he  quit- 
ted the  chamber,  followed  by  his  sister. 

There  were  sounds  of  mirth  and  revelry  that  night  in  the 
ancient  halls  of  Scone,  for  King  Robert,  having  taken  upon 
himself  the  state  and  consequence  of  sovereignty,  determined 
on  encouraging  the  high  spirits  and  excited  joyousness  of  his 
gallant  followers  by  all  the  amusements  of  chivalry  which  his 
confined  and  precarious  situation  permitted,  and  seldom  was  it 
that  the  dance  and  minstrelsy  did  not  echo  blithely  in  the 
royal  suite  for  many  hours  of  the  evening,  even  when  the  day 
had  brought  with  it  anxiety  and  fatigue,  and  even  intervals  of 
despondency.  There  were  many  noble  dames  and  some  few 
youthful  maidens  in  King  Robert's  court,  animated  by  the  same 
patriotic  spirit  which  led  their  husbands  and  brothers  to  risk 
fortune  and  life  in  the  service  of  their  country  :  they  preferred 
sharing  and  alleviating  their  dangers  and  anxieties,  by  throng- 
ing round  the  Brace's  wife,  to  the  precarious  calm  and  safety 
of  their  feudal  castles ;  and  light-heartedness  and  glee  shed 
their  bright  gleams  on  these  social  hours,  never  clouded  by  the 
gloomy  shades  that  darkened  the  political  horizon  of  the  Bruce's 
fortunes.  Perchance  this  night  there  was  a  yet  brighter  ra- 
diance cast  over  the  royal  halls,  there  was  a  spirit  of  light  and 
glory  in  every  word  and  action  of  the  youthful  enthusiast,  Ni- 
gel Bruce,  that  acted  as  with  magic  power  on  all  around ; 
known  in  the  court  of  England  but  as  a  moody  visionary  boy, 
whose  dreams  were  all  too  ethereal  to  guide  him  in  this  nether 
world,  whose  hand,  however  fitted  to  guide  a  pen,  was  all  too 
weak  to  wield  a  sword ;  the  change,  or  we  should  rather  say 
the  apparent  change,  perceived  in  him  occasioned  many  an 
eye  to  gaze  in  silent  wonderment,  and,  in  the  superstition  of 
the  time,  argue  well  for  the  fortunes  of  one  brother  from  the 
marvellous  effect  observable  in  the  countenance  and  mood  of 
the  other. 

The  hopefulness  of  youth,  its  rosy  visions,  its  smiling  dreams, 
all  sparkled  in  his  bright  blue  eye,  in  the  glad,  free,  ringing 
joyance  of  his  deep  rich  voice,  his  cloudless  smiles.  And  oh, 
who  is  there  can  resist  the  witchery  of  life's  young  hopes,  whc 
does  not  feel  the  warm  blood  run  quicker  through  his  veins, 


52  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

and  bid  his  heart  throb  even  as  it  hath  throbbed  in  former 
days,  and  the  gray  hues  of  life  melt  away  before  the  rosy  glow 
of  youth,  even  as  the  calm  cold  aspect  of  waning  night  is  lost 
in  the  warmth  and  loveliness  of  the  infant  morn  ?  And  what 
was  the  magic  acting  on  the  enthusiast  himself,  that  all  traces 
of  gloom  and  pensive  thought  were  banished  from  his  brow, 
that  the  full  tide  of  poetry  within  his  soul  seemed  thrilling  on 
his  lip,  breathing  in  his  simplest  word,  entrancing  his  whole 
being  in  joy  ?  Scarce  could  he  himself  have  defined  its  cause, 
such  a  multitude  of  strong  emotions  were  busy  at  his  heart. 
He  saw  not  the  dangers  overhanging  the  path  of  the  Bruce, 
he  only  saw  and  only  felt  him  as  his  sovereign,  as  his  brother, 
his  friend,  destined  to  be  all  that  he  had  hoped,  prayed,  and 
believed  he  would  be  ;  willing  to  accept  and  return  the  affec- 
tion he  had  so  long  felt,  and  give  him  that  friendship  and  con- 
fidence for  which  he  had  yearned  in  vain  so  long.  He  saw  his 
country  free,  independent,  unshackled,  glorious  as  of  old ;  and 
there  was  a  light  and  lovely  being  mingling  in  these  stirring 
visions — when  Scotland  was  free,  what  happiness  would  not 
be  his  own  !  Agnes,  who  flitted  before  him  in  that  gay  scene, 
the  loveliest,  dearest  object  there,  clinging  to  him  in  her  timid- 
ity, shrinking  from  the  gaze  of  the  warriors  around,  respectful 
as  it  was,  feeling  that  all  was  strange,  all  save  him  to  whom 
her  young  heart  was  vowed — if  such  exclusiveness  was  dear 
to  him,  if  it  were  bliss  to  him  to  feel  that,  save  her  young 
brother,  he  alone  had  claim  upon  her  notice  and  her  smile,  oh ! 
what  would  it  be  when  she  indeed  was  all,  all  indi visibly  his 
own  ?  Was  it  marvel,  then,  his  soul  was  full  of  the  joy  that 
beamed  forth  from  his  eye,  and  lip,  and  brow — that  his  faintest 
tone  breathed  gladness  ? 

There  was  music  and  mirth  in  the  royal  halls  :  the  shadow 
of  care  had  passed  before  the  full  sunshine  of  hope  ;  but  with- 
in that  palace  wall,  not  many  roods  removed  from  the  royal 
suite,  was  one  heart  struggling  with  its  lone  agony,  striving  for 
calm,  for  peace,  for  rest,  to  escape  from  the  deep  waters  threat- 
ening to  overwhelm  it.  Hour  after  hour  beheld  the  Countess 
of  Buchan  in  the  same  spot,  well-nigh  in  the  same  attitude ; 
the  agonized  dream  of  her  youth  had  come  upon  her  yet  once 
again,  the  voice  whose  musical  echoes  had  never  faded  from  her 
ear,  once  more  had  sounded  in  its  own  deep  thrilling  tones,  his 
hand  had  pressed  her  own,  his  eye  had  met  hers,  aye,  and  dwelt 


THE   DATS   OF   BRUCE.  53 

upon  her  with  the  unfeigned  reverence  and  admiration  which 
had  marked  its  expression  years  before  ;  and  it  was  to  him  her 
soul  had  yearned  in  all  the  fervidness  of  loyalty,  not  to  a  stran- 
ger, as  she  had  deemed  him.  Loyalty,  patriotism,  reverence 
her  sovereign  claimed,  aye,  and  had  received  ;  but  now  how  dare 
she  encourage  such  emotions  towards  one  it  had  been,  aye,  it 
was  her  duty  to  forget,  to  think  of  no  more  ?  Had  her  hus- 
band been  fond,  sought  the  noble  heart  which  felt  so  bitterly 
his  neglect,  the  gulf  which  now  divided  them  might  never  have 
existed ;  and  could  she  still  the  voice  of  that  patriotism,  that 
loyalty  towards  a  free  just  monarch,  which  the  dying  words  of 
a  parent  had  so  deeply  inculcated,  and  which  the  sentiments  of 
her  own  heart  had  increased  in  steadiness  and  strength  ?  On 
what  had  that  lone  heart  to  rest,  to  subdue  its  tempest,  to  give 
it  nerve  and  force,  to  rise  pure  in  thought  as  in  deed,  unstained, 
unshaded  in  its  nobleness,  what  but  its  own  innate  purity  ?  Yet 
fearful  was  the  storm  that  passed  over,  terrible  the  struggle 
which  shook  that  bent  form,  as  in  lowliness  and  contrition,  and 
agony  of  spirit,  she  knelt  before  the  silver  crucifix,  and  called 
upon  heaven  in  its  mercy  to  give  peace  and  strength — fierce, 
fierce  and  terrible  ;  but  the  agonized  cry  was  heard,  the  stormy 
waves  were  stilled. 


CHAPTER    V. 

BRIGHTLY  and  blithely  dawned  the  26th  of  March,  1306,  for 
the  loyal  inhabitants  of  Scone.  Few  who  might  gaze  on  the 
olden  city,  and  marked  the  flags  and  pennons  waving  gayly  and 
proudly  on  every  side ;  the  rich  tapestry  flung  over  balconies  or 
hung  from  the  massive  windows,  in  every  street ;  the  large 
branches  of  oak  and  laurel,  festooned  with  gay  ribands,  that 
stood  beside  the  entrance  of  every  house  which  boasted  any 
consequence ;  the  busy  citizens  in  goodly  array,  with  their  wives 
and  families,  bedecked  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  all,  as  in- 
spired by  one  spirit,  hurrying  in  the  direction  of  the  abbey 
yard,  joining  the  merry  clamor  of  eager  voices  to  the  continued 
peal  of  every  bell  of  which  the  old  town  could  boast,  sounding 
loud  and  joyously  even  above  the  roll  of  the  drum  or  the  shrill 
trumpet  call ; — those  who  marked  these  things  might  well  be- 


54  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

lieve  Scotland  was  once  again  the  same  free  land,  which  had 
hailed  in  the  same  town  the  coronation  of  Alexander  the  Third, 
some  years  before.  Little  would  they  deem  that  the  foreign 
foeman  still  thronged  her  feudal  holds  and  cottage  homes,  that 
they  waited  but  the  commands  of  their  monarch,  to  pour  down 
on  all  sides  upon  the  daring  individual  who  thus  boldly  assumed 
the  state  and  solemn  honor  of  a  king,  and,  armed  but  by  his 
own  high  heart  and  a  handful  of  loyal  followers,  prepared  to 
resist,  defend,  and/ree,  or  die  for  Scotland. 

There  was  silence — deep,  solemn,  yet  most  eloquent  silence, 
reigning  in  the  abbey  church  of  Scone.  The  sun  shining  in 
that  full  flood  of  glory  we  sometimes  find  in  the  infant  spring, 
illumined  as  with  golden  lustre  the  long,  narrow  casements, 
falling  thence  in  flickering  brilliance  on  the  pavement  floor,  its 
rays  sometimes  arrested,  to  revolve  in  heightened  lustre  from 
the  glittering  sword  or  the  suit  of  half-mail  of  one  or  other  of 
the  noble  knights  assembled  there.  The  rich  plate  of  the  ab- 
bey, all  at  least  which  had  escaped  the  cupidity  of  Edward, 
was  arranged  with  care  upon  the  various  altars  ;  in  the  centre 
of  the  church  was  placed  the  abbot's  oaken  throne,  which  was 
to  supply  the  place  of  the  ancient  stone,  the  coronation  seat  of 
the  Scottish  kings — no  longer  there,  its  absence  felt  by  one  and 
all  within  that  church  as  the  closing  seal  to  Edward's  infamy — 
the  damning  proof  that  as  his  slave,  not  as  his  sister  kingdom, 
he  sought  to  render  Scotland.  From  the  throne  to  the  high 
altar,  where  the  king  was  to.  receive  the  eucharist,  a  carpet  of 
richly-brocaded  Genoa  velvet  was  laid  down  ;  a  cushion  of  the 
same  elegantly-wrought  material  marked  the  place  beside  the 
spot  where  he  was  to  kneel.  Priests,  in  their  richest  vestments, 
officiated  at  the  high  altar ;  six  beautiful  boys,  bearing  alter- 
nately a  large  waxen  candle,  and  the  golden  censers  filled  with 
the  richest  incense,  stood  beside  them,  while  opposite  the  altar 
and  behind  the  throne,  in  an  elevated  gallery,  were  ranged  the 
seventy  choristers  of  the  abbey,  thirty  of  whom  were  youthful 
novices ;  behind  them  a  massive  screen  or  curtain  of  tapestry 
concealed  the  organ,  and  gave  a  yet  more  startling  and  thrilling 
effect  to  its  rich  deep  tones,  thus  bursting,  as  it  were,  from 
spheres  unseen. 

The  throne  was  already  occupied  by  the  patriot  king,  clothed 
in  his  robes  of  state  ;  his  inner  dress  was  a  doublet  and  vest  of 
white  velvet,  slashed  with  cloth  of  silver ;  his  stockings,  fitting 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  55 

tight  to  the  knee,  were  of  the  finest  woven  white  silk,  confined 
where  they  met  the  doublet  with  a  broad  band  of  silver  ;  his 
shoes  of  white  velvet,  broidered  with  silver,  in  unison  with  his 
dress ;  a  scarf  of  cloth  of  silver  passed  over  his  right  shoulder, 
fastened  there  by  a  jewelled  clasp,  and,  crossing  his  breast,  se- 
cured his  trusty  sword  to  his  left  side ;  his  head,  of  course, 
was  bare,  and  his  fair  hair,  parted  carefully  on  his  arched  and 
noble  brow,  descended  gracefully  on  either  side ;  his  counte- 
nance was  perfectly  calm,  unexpressive  of  aught  save  of  a  deep 
sense  of  the  solemn  service  in  which  he  was  engaged.  There 
was  not  the  faintest  trace  of  either  anxiety  or  exultation — 
naught  that  could  shadow  the  brows  of  his  followers,  or  dimin- 
ish by  one  particle  the  love  and  veneration  which  in  every  heart 
were  rapidly  gaining  absolute  dominion. 

On  the  right  of  the  king  stood  the  Abbot  of  Scone,  the 
Archbishop  of  St.  Andrew's,  and  Bishop  of  Glasgow,  all  of 
which  venerable  prelates  had  instantaneously  and  unhesitatingly 
declared  for  the  Bruce ;  ranged  on  either  side  of  the  throne, 
according  more  to  seniority  than  rank,  were  seated  the  brothers 
of  the  Bruce  and  the  loyal  barons  who  had  joined  his  standard. 
Names  there  were  already  famous  in  the  annals  of  patriot- 
ism— Fraser,  Lennox,  Athol,  Hay — whose  stalwart  arms  had 
so  nobly  struck  for  Wallace,  whose  steady  minds  had  risen 
superior  to  the  petty  emotions  of  jealousy  and  envy  which  had 
actuated  so  many  of  similar  rank.  These  were  true  patriots, 
and  gladly  and  freely  they  once  more  rose  for  Scotland.  Sir 
Christopher  Seaton,  brother-in-law  to  the  Bruce,  Somerville, 
Keith,  St.  Clair,  the  young  Lord  Douglas,  and  Thomas  Ran- 
dolph, the  king's  nephew,  were  the  most  noted  of  those  now 
around  the  Bruce  ;  yet  on  that  eventful  day  not  more  than 
fourteen  barons  were  mustered  round  their  sovereign,  exclusive 
of  his  four  gallant  brothers,  who  were  in  themselves  a  host. 
All  these  were  attired  with  the  care  and  gallantry  their  preca- 
rious situation  permitted ;  half  armor,  concealed  by  flowing 
scarfs  and  graceful  mantles,  or  suits  of  gayer  seeming  among 
the  younger  knights,  for  those  of  the  barons'  followers  of  gentle 
blood  and  chivalric  training  were  also  admitted  within  the 
church,  forming  a  goodly  show  of  gallant  men.  Behind  them, 
on  raised  seats,  which  were  divided  from  the  body  of  the 
church  by  an  open  railing  of  ebony,  sate  the  ladies  of  the  court, 
the  seat  of  the  queen  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  its  canopy 


56  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

and  cushion  of  embroidered  taffeta,  and  amongst  those  gentle 
beings  fairest  and  loveliest  shone  the  maiden  of  Buchan,  as  she 
sate  in  smiling  happiness  between  the  youthful  daughter  of  the 
Bruce,  the  Princess  Margory,  and  his  niece,  the  Lady  Isoline, 
children  of  ten  and  fourteen,  who  already  claimed  her  as  their 
companion  and  friend. 

The  color  was  bright  on  the  soft  cheek  of  Agnes,  the  smile 
laughed  alike  in  her  lip  and  eye  ;  for  ever  and  anon,  from  amidst 
the  courtly  crowd  beneath,  the  deep  blue  orb  of  Nigel  Bruce 
met  hers,  speaking  in  its  passioned  yet  respectful  gaze,  all  that 
could  whisper  joy  and  peace  unto  a  heart,  young,  loving,  and 
confiding,  as  that  of  Agnes.  The  evening  previous  he  had  de- 
tached the  blue  riband  which  confined  her  flowing  curls,  and 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  pardonable  pride  she  beheld  it  suspended 
from  his  neck,  even  in  that  hour,  when  his  rich  habiliments  and 
the  imposing  ceremony  of  the  day  marked  him  the  brother  of 
a  king.  Her  brother,  too,  was  at  his  side,  gazing  upon  his 
sovereign  with  feelings,  whose  index,  marked  as  it  was  on  his 
brow,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  being  older  than  he  was. 
It  was  scarcely  the  excitement  of  a  mere  boy,  who  rejoiced  in 
the  state  and  dignity  around  him  ;  the  emotion  of  his  mother 
had  sunk  upon  his  very  soul,  subduing  the  wild  buoyancy  of 
his  spirit,  and  bidding  him  feel  deeply  and  sadly  the  situation 
in  which  he  stood.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  never  thought 
before,  and  now  that  reflection  had  come  upon  him,  it  was 
fraught  with  a  weight  and  gloom  he  could  not  remove  and 
scarcely  comprehend.  He  felt  no  power  on  earth  could  pre- 
vent his  taking  the  only  path  which  was  open  to  the  true  pa- 
triot of  Scotland,  and  in  following  that  path  he  raised  the  stand- 
ard of  revolt,  and  enlisted  his  own  followers  against  his  father. 
Till  the  moment  of  action  he  had  dreamed  not  of  these  things ; 
but  the  deep  anxieties,  the  contending  feelings  of  his  mother, 
which,  despite  her  controlled  demeanor,  his  heart  perceived, 
could  not  but  have  their  effect,  and  premature  manhood  was 
stealing  fast  upon  his  heart. 

Upon  the  left  of  the  king,  and  close  beside  his  throne,  stood 
the  Countess  of  Buchan,  attired  in  robes  of  the  darkest  crimson 
velvet,  with  a  deep  border  of  gold,  which  swept  the  ground,  and 
long  falling  sleeves  with  a  broad  fringe ;  a  thick  cord  of  gold 
and  tassels  confined  the  robe  around  the  waist,  and  thence  fell 
reaching  to  her  feet,  and  well-nigh  concealing  the  inner  dress 


THE   DATS   OF   BKUCE.  57 

of  white  silk,  which  was  worn  to  permit  the  robes  falling  easily 
on  either  side,  and  thus  forming  a  long  train  behind.  Neither 
gem  nor  gold  adorned  her  beautiful  hair ;  a  veil  was  twisted 
in  its  luxuriant  tresses,  and  served  the  purpose  of  the  matron's 
coif.  She  was  pale  and  calm,  but  such  was  the  usual  expres- 
sion of  her  countenance,  and  perhaps  accorded  better  with  the 
dignified  majesty  of  her  commanding  figure  than  a  greater  play 
of  feature.  It  was  not  the  calmness  of  insensibility,  of  vacancy, 
it  was  the  still  reflection  of  a  controlled  and  chastened  soul,  of 
one  whose  depth  and  might  was  known  but  to  herself. 

The  pealing  anthem  for  a  while  had  ceased,  and  it  was  as  if 
that  church  was  desolate,  as  if  the  very  hearts  that  throbbed 
so  quickly  for  their  country  and  their  king  were  hushed  a  while 
and  stilled,  that  every  word  which  passed  between  the  sover- 
eign and  the  primate  should  be  heard.  Kneeling  before  him, 
his  hands  placed  between  those  of  the  archbishop,  the  king,  in 
a  clear  and  manly  voice,  received,  as  it  were,  the  kingdom  from 
his  hands,  and  swore  to  govern  according  to  the  laws  of  his  an- 
cestors ;  to  defend  the  liberties  of  his  people  alike  from  the 
foreign  and  the  civil  foe ;  to  dispense  justice ;  to  devote  life  it- 
self to  restoring  Scotland  to  her  former  station  in  the  scale  of 
kingdoms.  Solemnly,  energetically,  he  took  the  required  vows  ; 
his  cheek  flushed,  his  eye  glistened,  and  ere  he  rose  he  bent 
his  brow  upon  his  spread  hands,  as  if  his  spirit  supplicated 
strength,  and  the  primate,  standing  over  him,  blessed  him,  in  a 
loud  voice,  in  the  name  of  Him  whose  lowly  minister  he  was. 

A  few  minutes,  and  the  king  was  again  seated  on  his  throne, 
and  from  the  hands  of  the  Bishop  of  Glasgow,  the  Countess  of 
Buchan  received  the  simple  coronet  of  gold,  which  had  been 
hastily  made  to  supply  the  place  of  that  which  Edward  had 
removed.  It  was  a  moment  of  intense  interest :  every  eye  was 
directed  towards  the  king  and  the  dauntless  woman  by  his  side, 
who,  rather  than  the  descendant  of  Malcolm  Cean  Mohr  should 
demand  in  vain  the  service  from  the  descendants  of  the  brave 
Macduff,  exposed  herself  to  all  the  wrath  of  a  fierce  and  cruel 
king,  the  fury  of  an  incensed  husband  and  brother,  and  in  her 
own  noble  person  represented  that  ancient  and  most  loyal  line. 
Were  any  other  circumstance  needed  to  enhance  the  excitement 
of  the  patriots  of  Scotland,  they  would  have  found  it  in  this. 
As  it  was,  a  sudden,  irrepressible  burst  of  applause  broke  from 
many  eager  voices  as  the  bishop  placed  the  coronet  in  her  hands, 

3* 


58  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

but  one  glance  from  those  dark,  eloquent  eyes  sufficed  to  hush 
it  on  the  instant  into  stillness. 

Simultaneously  all  within  the  church  stood  up,  and  gracefully 
and  steadily,  with  a  hand  which  trembled  not,  even  to  the 
observant  and  anxious  eyes  of  her  son,  Isabella  of  Buchan 
placed  the  sacred  symbol  of  royalty  on  the  head  of  Scotland's 
king ;  and  then  arose,  as  with  one  voice,  the  wild  enthusiastic 
shout  of  loyalty,  which,  bursting  from  all  within  the  church, 
was  echoed  again  and  again  from  without,  almost  drowning  the 
triumphant  anthem  which  at  the  same  moment  sent  its  rich, 
hallowed  tones  through  the  building,  and  proclaimed  Robert 
Bruce  indeed  a  king. 

Again  and  yet  again  the  voice  of  triumph  and  of  loyalty 
arose  hundred-tongued,  and  sent  its  echo  even  to  the  English 
camp ;  and  when  it  ceased,  when  slowly,  and  as  it  were  reluc- 
tantly, it  died  away,  it  was  a  grand  and  glorious  sight  to  see 
those  stern  and  noble  barons  one  by  one  approach  their  sov- 
ereign's throne  and  do  him  homage. 

It  was  not  always  customary  for  the  monarchs  of  those  days 
to  receive  the  feudal  homage  of  their  vassals  the  same  hour  of 
their  coronation,  it  was  in  general  a  distinct  and  almost  equally 
gorgeous  ceremony ;  but  in  this  case  both  the  king  and  barons 
felt  it  better  policy  to  unite  them ;  the  excitement  attendant  on 
the  one  ceremonial  they  felt  would  prevent  the  deficiency  of 
numbers  in  the  other  being  observed,  and  they  acted  wisely. 

There  was  a  dauntless  firmness  in  each  baron's  look,  in  his 
manly  carriage  and  unwavering  step,  as  one  by  one  he  trav- 
ersed the  space  between  him  and  the  throne,  seeming  to  pro- 
claim that  in  himself  he  held  indeed  a  host.  To  adhere  to  the 
usual  custom  of  paying  homage  to  the  suzerain  bareheaded,  bare- 
footed, and  unarmed,  the  embroidered  slipper  had  been  adopted 
by  all  instead  of  the  iron  boot ;  and  as  he  knelt  before  the 
throne,  the  Earl  of  Lennox,  for,  first  in  rank,  he  first  approached 
his  sovereign,  unbuckling  his  trusty  sword,  laid  it,  together  with 
his  dagger,  at  Robert's  feet,  and  placing  his  clasped  hands 
between  those  of  the  king,  repeated,  in  a  deep  sonorous  voice, 
the  solemn  vow — to  live  and  die  with  him  against  all  manner 
of  men.  Athol,  Fraser,  Seaton,  Douglas,  Hay,  gladly  and 
willingly  followed  his  example ;  and  it  was  curious  to  mark 
the  character  of  each  man,  proclaimed  in  his  mien  and  hurried 
step. 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  59 

The  calm,  controlled,  and  somewhat  thoughtful  manner  of 
those  grown  wise  in  war,  their  bold  spirits  feeling  to  the  inmost 
soul  the  whole  extent  of  the  risk  they  run,  scarcely  daring  to 
anticipate  the  freedom  of  their  country,  the  emancipation  of 
their  king  from  the  heavy  yoke  that  threatened  him,  and  yet  so 
firm  in  the  oath  they  pledged,  that  had  destruction  yawned 
before  them  ere  they  reached  the  throne,  they  would  have  dared 
it  rather  than  turned  back — and  then  again  those  hot  and 
eager  youths,  feeling,  knowing  but  the  excitement  of  the  hour, 
believing  but  as  they  hoped,  seeing  but  a  king,  a  free  and  inde- 
pendent king,  bounding  from  their  seats  to  the  monarch's  feet, 
regardless  of  the  solemn  ceremonial  in  which  they  took  a  part, 
desirous  only,  in  the  words  of  their  oath,  to  live  and  die  for 
him — caused  a  brighter  flush  to  mantle  on  King  Robert's  cheek, 
and  his  eyes  to  shine  with  new  and  radiant  light.  None  knew 
better  than  himself  the  perils  that  encircled  him,  yet  there  was 
a  momentary  glow  of  exultation  in  his  heart  as  he  looked  oil 
the  noble  warriors,  the  faithful  friends  around  him,  and  felt 
that  they,  even  they,  representatives  of  the  oldest,  the  noblest 
houses  in  Scotland — men  famed  not  alone  for  their  gallant  bear- 
ing in  war,  but  their  fidelity  and  wisdom,  and  unstained  honor 
and  virtue  in  peace — even  they  acknowledged  him  their  king, 
and  vowed  him  that  allegiance  which  was  never  known  to  fail. 

Alan  of  Buchan  was  the  last  of  that  small  yet  noble  train 
who  approached  his  sovereign.  There  was  a  hot  flush  of  im- 
petuous feeling  on  the  boy's  cheek,  an  indignant  tear  trembled 
in  his  dark  flashing  eye,  and  his  voice,  sweet,  thrilling  as  it  was, 
quivered  with  the  vain  effort  to  restrain  his  emotion. 

"  Sovereign  of  Scotland,"  he  exclaimed,  "  descendant  of  that 
glorious  line  of  kings  to  whom  my  ancestors  have  until  this  dark 
day  vowed  homage  and  allegiance ;  sovereign  of  all  good  and 
faithful  men,  on  whose  inmost  souls  the  name  of  Scotland  is  so 
indelibly  writ,  that  even  in  death  it  may  there  be  found,  refuse 
not  thou  my  homage.  I  have  but  my  sword,  not  e'en  a  name 
of  which  to  boast,  yet  hear  me  swear,"  he  raised  his  clasped 
hands  towards  heaven,  "  swear  that  for  thee,  for  my  country, 
for  thee  alone,  will  I  draw  it,  alone  shall  my  life  be  spent,  my 
blood  be  shed.  Reject  me  not  because  my  name  is  Comyn, 
because  I  alone  am  here  of  that  once  loyal  house.  Oh !  con- 
demn me  not ;  reject  not  untried  ar  loyal  heart  and  trusty 
syord." 


60  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

"  Reject  thee,"  said  King  Robert,  laying  his  hand  kindly  on 
the  boy's  shoulder  ;  "reject  thee,  young  soldier,"  he  said,  cheer- 
ingly :  "  in  Alan  of  Buchan  we  see  but  the  noble  son  of  our 
right  noble  countrywoman,  the  Lady  Isabella ;  we  see  in  him 
but  a  worthy  descendant  of.  Macduff,  the  noble  scion,  though 
but  by  the  mother's  side,  of  the  loyal  house  of  Fife.  Young 
as  thou  art,  we  ask  of  thee  but  the  heart  and  sword  which  thou 
hast  so  earnestly  proffered,  nor  can  we,  son  of  Isabella  of  Fife, 
doubt  their  honesty  and  truth ;  thou  shalt  earn  a  loyal  name 
for  thyself,  and  till  then,  as  the  brother  in  arms,  the  chosen 
friend  of  Nigel  Bruce,  all  shall  respect  and  trust  thee.  We 
confer  knighthood  on  twenty  of  our  youthful  warriors  seven 
days  hence ;  prepare  thyself  to  receive  it  with  our  brother : 
enough  for  us  to  know  thou  hast  learned  the  art  of  chivalry  at 
thy  mother's  hand." 

Dazzled,  bewildered  by  the  benign  manner,  and  yet  more 
gracious  words  of  his  sovereign,  the  young  heir  of  Buchan  re- 
mained kneeling  for  a  brief  space,  as  if  rooted  to  the  ground, 
but  the  deep  earnest  voice  of  his  mother,  the  kind  greeting  of 
Nigel  Bruce,  as  he  grasped  his  arm,  and  hailed  him  companion 
in  arms,  roused  him  at  once,  and  he  sprung  to  his  feet ;  the 
despondency,  shame,  doubt,  anxiety  which  like  lead  had  weighed 
down  his  heart  before,  dissolved  before  the  glad,  buoyant  spirit, 
the  bright,  free,  glorious  hopes,  and  dreams,  and  visions  which 
are  known  to  youth  alone. 

Stentorian  and  simultaneous  was  the  eager  shout  that  hailed 
the  appearance  of  the  newly-anointed  king,  as  he  paused  a  mo- 
ment on  the  great  stone  staircase,  leading  from  the  principal 
doors  of  the  abbey  to  the  abbey  yard.  For  miles  round,  par- 
ticularly from  those  counties  which  were  but  thinly  garrisoned 
by  the  English,  the  loyal  Scots  had  poured  at  the  first  rumor 
of  the  Bruce's  rising,  and  now  a  rejoicing  multitude  welcomed 
him  with  one  voice,  the  execrations  against  their  foes  forgotten 
in  this  outpouring  of  the  heart  towards  their  native  prince. 

Inspired  by  this  heartfelt  greeting,  the  king  advanced  a  few 
paces  on  the  stone  terrace,  and  raised  his  right  hand,  as  if  about 
to  speak ;  on  the  instant  every  shout  was  hushed,  and  silence 
fell  upon  that  eager  multitude,  as  deep  and  voiceless  as  if  some 
mighty  magic  chained  them  spell- bound  where  they  stood,  their 
very  breathing  hushed,  fearful  to  lose  one  word. 

Many  an  aged  eye  grew  dim  with  tears,  as  it  rested  on  the 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  61 

fair  and  graceful  form,  the  beautifully  expressive  face  of  him, 
who,  with  eloquent  fervor,  referred  to  the  ancient  glory  of  their 
country ;  tears  of  joy,  for  they  felt  they  looked  upon  the  good 
genius  of  their  land,  that  she  was  raised  from  her  dejected 
stupor,  to  sleep  a  slave  no  more ;  and  the  middle-aged  and  the 
young,  with  deafening  shouts  and  eager  gestures,  swore  to  give 
him  the  crown,  the  kingdom  he  demanded,  free,  unshackled  as 
his  ancestors  had  borne  them,  or  die  around  him  to  a  man ;  and 
blessings  and  prayers  in  woman's  gentler  voice  mingled  with 
the  swelling  cry,  and  little  children  caught  the  Bruce's  name, 
and  bade  "  God  bless  him,"  and  others,  equally  impetuous, 
shouted  "  Bruce  and  freedom  !" 

"  Love,  obey,  follow  me,  for  Scotland's  sake  ;  noble  or  gentle, 
let  all  private  feud  be  forgotten  in  this  one  great  struggle  for 
liberty  or  death.  Jhus,"  he  concluded,  "  united  and  faithful, 
the  name  of  Wallace  on  each  lip,  the  weal  of  Scotland  in  each 
heart,  her  mountains  our  shield,  her  freedom  our  sword,  shall 
we,  can  we  fail  ?  No !  no !  Scotland  shall  be  free,  or  her  green 
sod  and  mountain  flowers  shall  bloom  upon  our  graves.  I  have 
no  crown  save  that  which  Scotland  gives,  no  kingdom  save 
what  your  swords  shall  conquer,  and  your  hearts  bestow  ;  with 
you  I  live  and  die." 

In  the  midst  of  the  shouts  and  unrestrained  clamor  succeed- 
ing this  eloquent  address,  the  fiery  chargers  of  the  king  and 
his  attendant  barons  and  esquires  were  led  to  the  foot  of  the 
staircase.  And  a  fair  and  noble  sight  was  the  royal  cortege  as 
slowly  it  passed  through  the  old  town,  with  banners  flying, 
lances  gleaming,  and  the  rich  swell  of  triumphant  music  echo- 
ing on  the  air.  Nobles  and  dames  mingled  indiscriminately  to- 
gether. Beautiful  palfreys  or  well-trained  glossy  mules,  richly 
caparisoned,  gracefully  guided  by  the  dames  and  maidens,  bore 
their  part  well  amid  the  more  fiery  chargers  of  their  compan- 
ions. The  queen  rode  at  King  Robert's  left  hand,  the  primate 
of  Scotland  at  his  right,  Lennox,  Seaton,  and  Hay  thronged 
around  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  eager  to  pay  her  that  courteous 
homage  which  she  now  no  longer  refused,  and  willingly  joined 
in  their  animated  converse.  The  Lady  Maiy  Campbell  and  her 
sister  Lady  Seaton  found  an  equally  gallant  and  willing  escort, 
as  did  the  other  noble  dames ;  but  none  ventured  to  dispute 
the  possession  of  the  maiden  of  Buchan  with  the  gallant  Nigel, 
who,  riding  close  at  her  bridle  rein,  ever  and  anon  whispered 


62  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

some  magic  words  that  called  a  blush  to  her  cheek  and  a  smile 
on  her  lip,  their  attention  called  off  now  and  then  by  some  wild 
jest  or  courteous  word  from  the  young  Lord  Douglas,  whose 
post  seemed  in  every  part  of  the  royal  train ;  now  galloping  to 
the  front,  to  caracole  by  the  side  of  the  queen,  to  accustom  her, 
he  said,  to  the  sight  of  good  horsemanship,  then  lingering  be- 
side the  Countess  of  Buchan,  to  give  some  unexpected  rejoinder 
to  the  graver  maxims  of  Lennox.  The  Princess  Margery,  her 
cousins,  the  Lady  Isoline  Campbell  and  Alice  and  Christina 
Seaton,  escorted  by  Alan  of  Buchan,  Walter  Fitz-Alan,  Alex- 
ander Fraser,  and  many  other  young  esquires,  rejoicing  in  the 
task  assigned  them. 

It  was  a  gay  and  gorgeous  sight,  and  beautiful  the  ringing 
laugh  and  silvery  voice  of  youth.  No  dream  of  desponding 
dread  shadowed  their  hearts,  though  dangejj  and  suffering,  and 
defeat  and  death,  were  darkly  gathering  round  them.  Who, 
as  he  treads  the  elastic  earth,  fresh  with  the  breeze  of  day,  as 
he  gazes  on  the  cloudless  blue  of  the  circling  sky,  or  the  daz- 
zling rays  of  the  morning  sun,  as  the  hum  of  happy  life  is  round 
him — who  is  there  thinks  of  the  silence,  and  darkness,  and  tem- 
pest that  come  in  a  few  brief  hours,  on  the  shadowy  pinions 
of  night  ? 


CHAPTER   VI. 


SOME  ten  or  twelve  days  after  the  momentous  event  recorded 
in  our  last  chapter,  King  Edward's  royal  palace,  at  Winchester, 
was  thronged  at  an  unusually  early  hour  by  many  noble  knights 
and  barons,  bearing  on  their  countenances  symptoms  of  some 
new  and  unexpected  excitement ;  and  there  was  a  dark  boding 
gloom  on  the  now  contracted  brow  and  altered  features  of  Eng- 
land's king,  as,  weakened  and  well-nigh  worn  out  by  a  linger- 
ing disease,  he  reclined  on  a  well-cushioned  couch,  to  receive 
the  eagerly-offered  homage  of  his  loyal  barons.  He,  who  had 
been  from  earliest  youth  a  warrior,  with  whose  might  and 
dauntless  prowess  there  was  not  one,  or  prince,  or  noble, 
or  English,  or  foreigner, ,  could  compete,  whose  strength  of 
frame  and  energy  of  mind  had  ever  borne  him  scathless  and 


THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  63 

uninjured  through  scenes  of  fatigue,  and  danger,  and  blood,  and 
death ;  whose  sword  had  restored  a  kingdom  to  his  father — 
had  struggled  for  Palestine  and  her  holy  pilgrims — had  given 
Wales  to  England,  and  again  and  again  prostrated  the  hopes 
and  energies  of  Scotland  into  the  dust ;  even  he,  this  mighty 
prince,  lay  prostrate  now,  unable  to  conquer  or  to  struggle  with 
disease — disease  that  attacked  the  slave,  the  lowest  serf  or  yeo- 
man of  his  land,  and  thus  made  manifest,  how  in  the  sight  of 
that  King  of  kings,  from  whom  both  might  and  weakness  come, 
the  prince  and  peasant  are  alike — the  monarch  and  the  slave ! 

The  disease  had  been  indeed  in  part  subdued,  but  Edward 
could  not  close  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  he  should  never  again 
be  what  he  had  been ;  that  the  strength  which  had  enabled 
him  to  do  and  endure  so  much,  the  energy  which  had  ever  led 
him  on  to  victory,  the  fire  which  had  so  often  inspired  his  own 
heart,  and  urged  on,  as  by  magic  power,  his  followers — that  all 
these  were  gone  from  him,  and  forever.  Ambition,  indeed, 
yet  burned  within,  strong,  undying,  mighty ;  aye,  perhaps 
mightier  than  ever,  as  the  power  of  satisfying  that  ambition 
glided  from  his  grasp.  He  had  rested,  indeed,  a  brief  while, 
secure  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  darling  wish,  that  every  rood  of 
land  composing  the  British  Isles  should  be  united  under  him  as 
sole  sovereign ;  he  believed,  and  rejoiced  in  the  belief,  that  with 
Wallace  all  hope  or  desire  of  resistance  had  departed.  His 
disease  had  been  at  its  height  when  Bruce  departed  from  his 
court,  and  disabled  him  a  while  from  composedly  considering 
how  that  event  would  affect  his  interest  in  Scotland.  As  the 
violence  of  the  disease  subsided,  however,  he  had  leisure  to 
contemplate  and  become  anxious.  Rumors,  some  extravagant, 
some  probable,  now  floated  about ;  and  the  sovereign  looked 
anxiously  to  the  high  festival  of  Easter  to  bring  all  his  barons 
around  him,  and  by  the  absence  or  presence  of  the  suspected, 
discover  at  once  how  far  his  suspicions  and  the  floating  rumors 
were  correct. 

Although  the  indisposition  of  the  sovereign  prevented  the 
feasting,  merry-making,  and  other  customary  marks  of  royal 
munificence,  which  ever  attended  the  solemnization  of  Easter, 
yet  it  did  not  in  any  way  interfere  with  the  bounden  duty  of 
every  earl  and  baron,  knight  and  liegeman,  and  high  ecclesias- 
tics of  the  realm  to  present  themselves  before  the  monarch  at 
such  a  time  ;  Easter,  Whitsuntide,  and  Christmas,  being  the 


64:  THE  DATS   OF   BRUCE. 

seasons  when  every  loyal  subject  of  fit  degree  appeared  attend- 
ant on  his  sovereign,  without  any  summons  so  to  do. 

They  had  been  seasons  of  peculiar  interest  since  the  dismem- 
berment of  Scotland,  for  Edward's  power  was  such,  that  seldom 
had  the  peers  and  other  great  officers  of  that  land  refused  the 
tacit  acknowledgment  of  England's  supremacy  by  their  non- 
appearance.  Even  in  that  which  was  deemed  the  rebellion  of 
Wallace,  the  highest  families,  even  the  competitors  for  the 
crown,  and  all  the  knights  and  vassals  in  their  interest,  had 
swelled  the  train  of  the  conqueror;  but  this  Easter  ten  or 
twelve  great  barons  and  their  followers  were  missing.  The 
nobles  had  eagerly  and  anxiously  scanned  the  countenances  of 
each,  and  whispered  suspicions  and  rumors,  which  one  glance 
on  their  monarch's  ruffled  brow  confirmed. 

"  So  ho  !  my  faithful  lords  and  gallant  knights,"  he  exclaim- 
ed, after  the  preliminaries  of  courtesy  between  each  noble  and 
his  sovereign  had  been  more  hastily  than  usual  performed, 
speaking  in  a  tone  so  unusually  harsh  and  sarcastic,  that  the 
terms  "faithful  and  gallant"  seemed  used  but  in  mockery; 
"  so  ho !  these  are  strange  news  we  hear.  Where  be  my  lords 
of  Carrick,  Athol,  Lennox,  Hay  ?  Where  be  the  knights  of 
Seaton,  Somerville,  Keith,  and  very  many  others  we  could 
name  ?  Where  be  these  proud  lords,  I  say  ?  Are  none  of  ye 
well  informed  on  these  things?  I  ask  ye  where  be  they? 
Why  are  they  not  here  ?" 

There  was  a  pause,  for  none  dared  risk  reply.  Edward's 
voice  had  waxed  louder  and  louder,  his  sallow  cheek  flushed 
with  wrath,  and  he  raised  himself  from  his  couch,  as  if  irrita- 
bility of  thought  had  imparted  strength  to  his  frame. 

"  I  ask  ye,  where  be  these  truant  lords  ?  There  be  some  of 
ye  who  can  reply  ;  aye,  and  by  good  St.  Edward,  reply  ye  shall. 
Gloucester,  my  lord  of  Gloucester,  stand  forth,  I  say,"  he  con- 
tinued, the  thunderstorm  drawing  to  that  climax  which  made 
many  tremble,  lest  its  bolt  should  fall  on  the  daring  baron  who 
rumor  said  was  implicated  in  the  flight  of  the  Bruce,  and  who 
now  stood,  his  perfect  self-possession  and  calmness  of  mien  and 
feature  contrasting  well  with  the  fury  of  his  sovereign. 

"  And  darest  thou  front  me  with  that  bold,  shameless  brow, 
false  traitor  as  thou  art  ?"  continued  the  king,  as,  with  head 
erect  and  arms  proudly  folded  in  his  mantle,  Gloucester  obeyed 
the  king's  impatient  summons.  "  Traitor !  I  call  thee  traitor  ! 


THE   DAYS   OF   BJJUCE.  65 

aye,  in  the  presence  of  thy  country's  noblest  peers,  I  charge 
thee  with  a  traitor's  deed  ;  deny  it,  if  thou  darest." 

"  'Tis  my  sovereign  speaks  the  word,  else  had  it  not  been 
spoken  with  impunity,"  returned  the  noble,  proudly  and  com- 
posedly, though  his  cheek  burned  and  his  eye  flashed.  "  Yes, 
monarch  of  England,  I  dare  deny  the  charge  !  Gloucester  is 
no  traitor !" 

"  How !  dost  thou  brave  me,  minion  ?  Darest  thou  deny 
the  fact,  that  from  thee,  from  thy  traitorous  hand,  thy  base 
connivance,  Robert  of  Carrick,  warned  that  we  knew  his  treach- 
ery, fled  from  our  power — that  'tis  to  thee,  we  owe  the  pleas- 
ant news  we  have  but  now  received  ?  Hast  thou  not  given  that 
rebel  Scotland  a  head,  a  chief,  in  this  fell  traitor,  and  art  thou 
not  part  and  parcel  of  his  guilt  ?  Darest  thou  deny  that  from 
thee  he  received  intelligence  and  means  of  flight  ?  Baron  of 
Gloucester,  thou  darest  not  add  the  stigma  of  falsity  to  thy  al- 
ready dishonored  name !" 

"  Sovereign  of  England,  my  gracious  liege  and  honored  king," 
answered  Gloucester,  still  apparently  unmoved,  and  utterly  re- 
gardless of  the  danger  in  which  he  stood,  "  dishonor  is  not  fur- 
ther removed  from  thy  royal  name  than  it  is  from  Gloucester's. 
I  bear  no  stain  of  either  falsity  or  treachery ;  that  which  thou 
hast  laid  to  my  charge  regarding  the  Earl  of  Carrick,  I  shrink 
not,  care  not  to  acknowledge ;  yet,  Edward  of  England,  I  am 
no  traitor !" 

"  Ha !  thou  specious  orator,  reconcile  the  two  an  thou  canst ! 
Thou  art  a  scholar  of  deep  research  and  eloquence  profound  we 
have  heard.  Speak  on,  then,  in  heaven's  name !"  He  flung 
himself  back  on  his  cushions  as  he  spoke,  for,  despite  his  wrath, 
his  suspicions,  there  was  that  in  the  calm,  chivalric  bearing  of 
the  earl  that  appealed  not  in  vain  to  one  who  had  so  long  been 
the  soul  of  chivalry  himself. 

The  tone  in  which  his  sovereign  spoke  was  softened,  though 
his  words  were  bitter,  and  Gloucester  at  once  relaxed  from  his 
proud  and  cold  reserve  ;  kneeling  before  him,  he  spoke  with 
fervor  and  impassioned  truth — 

"  Condemn  me  not  unheard,  my  gracious  sovereign,"  he 
said.  "  I  speak  not  to  a  harsh  and  despotic  king,  who  brings 
his  faithful  subjects  to  the  block  at  the  first  whisper  of  evil  or 
misguided  conduct  cast  to  their  charge  ;  were  Edward  such, 
Gloucester  would  speak  not,  hope  not  for  justice  at  his  hands ; 


66  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

but  to  thee,  my  liege,  to  thee,  to  whom  all  true  knights  may 
look  up  as  to  the  mirror  of  all  that  knight  should  be — the  life 
and  soul  of  chivalry — to  thee,  the  noblest  warrior,  the  truest 
knight  that  ever  put  lance  in  rest — to  thee,  I  say,  I  am  no 
traitor  ;  and  appeal  but  to  the  spirit  of  chivalry  actuating  thine 
own  heart  to  acquit  or  condemn  me,  as  it  listeth.  Hear  me, 
my  liege.  Robert  of  Carrick  and  myself  were  sworn  brothers 
from  the  first  hour  of  our  entrance  together  upon  life,  as  pages, 
esquires,  and  finally,  as  knights,  made  such  by  thine  own  royal 
hand  ;  brothers  in  arms,  in  dangers,  in  victories,  in  defeat ;  aye, 
and  brothers — more  than  brothers — in  mutual  fidelity  and  love  ; 
to  receive  life,  to  be  rescued  from  captivity  at  each  other's  hand, 
to  become  equal  sharers  of  whatever  honors  might  be  granted 
to  the  one  and  not  the  other.  Need  my  sovereign  be  reminded 
that  such  constitutes  the  ties  of  brothers  in  arms,  and  such 
brothers  were  Robert  of  Carrick  and  Gilbert  of  Gloucester. 
There  came  a  rumor  that  the  instigations  of  a  base  traitor  had 
poisoned  your  grace's  ear  against  one  of  these  sworn  brothers, 
threatening  his  liberty,  if  not  his  life ;  that  which  was  revealed, 
its  exact  truth  or  falsehood,  might  Gloucester  pause  to  list  or 
weigh  ?  My  liege,  thou  knowest  it  could  not  be.  A  piece  of 
money  and  a  pair  of  spurs  was  all  the  hint,  the  warning,  that 
he  dared  to  give,  and  it  was  given,  and  its  warning  taken ;  and 
the  imperative  duty  the  laws  of  chivalry,  of  honor,  friendship, 
all  alike  demanded  done.  The  brother  by  the  brother  saved  ! 
Was  Gloucester,  then,  a  traitor  to  his  sovereign,  good  my 
liege  ?" 

"  Say  first,  my  lord,  how  Gloucester  now  will  reconcile  these 
widely  adverse  duties,  how  comport  himself,  if  duty  to  his  liege 
and  sovereign  call  on  him  to  lift  his  sword  against  his  broth- 
er ?"  demanded  Edward,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  and 
looking  on  the  kneeling  nobleman  with  eyes  which  seemed  to 
have  recovered  their  flashing  light  to  penetrate  his  soul.  Wrath 
itself  appeared  to  have  subsided  before  this  calm  yet  eloquent 
appeal,  which  in  that  age  could  scarcely  have  been  resisted 
without  affecting  the  honor  of  the  knight  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed. 

An  expression  of  suffering,  amounting  almost  to  anguish,  took 
the  place  of  energy  and  fervor  on  the  noble  countenance  of 
Gloucester,  and  his  voice,  which  had  never  once  quivered  or 
failed  him  in  the  height  of  Edward's  wrath,  now  absolutely 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  67 

shook  with  the  effort  to  master  his  emotion.  Twice  he  essayed 
to  speak  ere  words  came  ;  at  length — 

"  With  Robert  of  Carrick  Gilbert  of  Gloucester  was  allied 
as  brother,  my  liege,"  he  said.  "  With  Robert  the  rebel,  Rob- 
ert the  would-be  king,  the  daring  opposer  of  my  sovereign, 
Gloucester  can  have  naught  in  common.  My  liege,  as  a  knight 
and  gentleman,  I  have  done  my  duty  fearlessly,  openly ;  as 
fearlessly,  as  openly,  as  your  grace's  loyal  liegeman,  fief,  and 
subject,  in  the  camp  and  in  the  court,  in  victory  or  defeat, 
against  all  manner  or  ranks  of  men,  be  they  friends  or  foes  ;  to 
my  secret  heart  I  am  thine,  and  thine  alone.  In  proof  of  which 
submission,  my  royal  liege,  lest  still  in  your  grace's  judgment 
Gloucester  be  not  cleared  from  treachery,  behold  I  resign  alike 
my  sword  and  coronet  to  your  royal  hands,  never  again  to  be 
resumed,  save  at  my  sovereign's  bidding." 

His  voice  became  again  firm  ere  he  concluded,  and  with  the 
same  respectful  deference  yet  manly  pride  which  had  marked 
his  bearing  throughout,  he  laid  his  sheathed  sword  and  golden 
coronet  at  his  sovereign's  feet,  and  then  rising  steadily  and  un- 
flinchingly, returned  Edward's  searching  glance,  and  calmly 
awaited  his  decision. 

"  By  St.  Edward  !  Baron  of  Gloucester,"  he  exclaimed,  in 
his  own  tone  of  kingly  courtesy,  mingled  with  a  species  of  ad- 
miration he  cared  not  to  conceal,  "  thou  hast  fairly  challenged 
us  to  run  a  tilt  with  thee,  not  of  sword  and  lance,  but  of  all 
knightly  and  generous  courtesy.  I  were  no  true  knight  to  con- 
demn, nor  king  to  mistrust  thee ;  yet,  of  a  truth,  the  fruit  of 
thy  rash  act  might  chafe  a  cooler  mood  than  ours.  Knowest 
thou  Sir  John  Comyn  is  murdered — murdered  by  the  arch 
traitor  thou  hast  saved  from  our  wrath  ?" 

"  I  heard  it,  good  my  liege,"  calmly  returned  Gloucester. 
"  Robert  of  Carrick  was  no  temper  to  pass  by  injuries,  aggra- 
vated, traitorous  injuries,  unavenged." 

"  And  this  is  all  thou  sayest !"  exclaimed  Edward,  his  Wrath 
once  again  gaining  dominion.  "  Wouldst  thou  defend  this  base 
deed  on  plea,  forsooth,  that  Comyn  was  a  traitor  ?  Traitor — 
and  to  whom  ?" 

"  To  the  man  that  trusted  him,  my  liege  ;  to  him  he  falsely 
swore  to  second  and  to  aid.  To  every  law  of  knighthood  and 
of  honor  I  say  he  was  a  traitor,  and  deserved  his  fate." 

"  And  this  to  thy  sovereign,  madman  ?     To  us,  whose  dig- 


68  THE   DAYS  OF  BRUCE. 

nity  and  person  have  been  insulted,  lowered,  trampled  on  ? 
By  all  the  saints,  thou  hast  tempted  us  too  far !  What  ho, 
there,  guards  !  Am  I  indeed  so  old  and  witless,"  he  muttered, 
sinking  back  again  upon  the  couch  from  which  he  had  started 
in  the  moment  of  excitement,  "  as  so  soon  to  forget  a  knightly 
nobleness,  which  in  former  days  would  have  knitted  my  very 
soul  to  his  ?  Bah !  'tis  this  fell  disease  that  spoke,  not  Ed- 
ward. Away  with  ye,  sir  guards,  we  want  ye  not,"  he  added, 
imperatively,  as  they  approached  at  his  summons.  "  And  thou, 
sir  earl,  take  up  thy  sword,  and  hence  from  my  sight  a  while ; 
— answer  not,  but  obey.  I  fear  more  for  mine  own  honor  than 
thou  dost  for  thy  head.  We  neither  disarm  nor  restrain  thee, 
for  we  trust  thee  still ;  but  away  with  thee,  for  on  our  kingly 
faith,  thou  hast  tried  us  sorely." 

Gloucester  flung  himself  on  his  knee  beside  his  sovereign,  his 
lips  upon  the  royal  hand,  which,  though  scarcely  yielded  to  him, 
was  not  withheld,  and  hastily  resuming  his  sword  and  coronet, 
with  a  deep  reverence,  silently  withdrew. 

The  king  looked  after  him,  admiration  and  fierce  anger  strug- 
gling for  dominion  alike  on  his  countenance  as  in  his  heart,  and 
then  sternly  and  piercingly  he  scanned  the  noble  crowd,  who, 
hushed  into  a  silence  of  terror  as  well  as  of  extreme  interest 
during  the  scene  they  had  beheld,  now  seemed  absolutely  to 
shrink  from  the  dark,  flashing  orbs  of  the  king,  as  they  rested 
on  each  successively,  as  if  the  accusation  of  lip  would  follow 
that  of  eye,  and  the  charge  of  treason  fall  indiscriminately  on 
all ;  but,  exhausted  from  the  passion  to  which  he  had  given 
vent,  Edward  once  more  stretched  himself  on  his  cushions,  and 
merely  muttered — 

"  Deserved  his  fate — a  traitor.  Is  Gloucester  mad — or  worse, 
disloyal  ?  No  ;  that  open  brow  and  fearless  eye  are  truth  and 
faithfulness  alone.  I  will  not  doubt  him  ;  'tis  but  his  lingering 
love  for  that  foul  traitor,  Bruce,  which  I  were  no  true  knight 
to  hold  in  blame.  But  that  murder,  that  base  murder — insult 
alike  to  our  authority,  our  realm — by  every  saint  in  heaven,  it 
shall  be  fearfully  avenged,  and  that  madnjan  rue  the  day  he 
dared  fling  down  the  gauntlet  of  rebellion  !"  and  as  he  spoke, 
his  right  hand  instinctively  grasped  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and 
half  drew  it  from  its  sheath. 

"  Madman,  in  very  truth,  my  liege,"  said  Aymer  de  Valence, 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  who,  high  in  favor  with  his  sovereign,  alone 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  69 

ventured  to  address  him  ;  "  as  your  grace  will  believe,  when  I 
say  not  only  hath  he  dared  defy  thee  by  the  murder  of  Comyn, 
but  has  had  the  presumptuous  folly  to  enact  the  farce  of  coro- 
nation, taking  upon  himself  all  the  insignia  of  a  king." 

i'  How !  what  sayst  thou,  De  Valence,"  returned  Edward, 
again  starting  up,  "  coronation — king  ?  By  St.  Edward  !  this 
passeth  all  credence.  Whence  hadst  thou  this  witless  news  ?" 

"  From  sure  authority,  my  liege,  marvellous  as  they  seem. 
These  papers,  if  it  please  your  grace  to  peruse,  contain  matters 
of  import  which  demand  most  serious  attention." 

"Anon,  anofl,  sir  earl!"  answered  Edward,  impatiently,  as 
Pembroke,  kneeling,  laid  the  papers  on  a  small  table  of  ivory 
which  stood  at  the  monarch's  side.  "  Tell  me  more  of  this 
strange  farce  ;  a  king,  ha  !  ha  !  Does  the  rebel  think  'tis  but 
to  put  a  crown  upon  his  head  and  a  sceptre  in  his  hand  that 
makes  the  monarch — a  king,  forsooth.  And  who  officiated 
at  this  right  solemn  mockery  ?  'Twas,  doubtless,  a  goodly 
sight !" 

"  On  my  knightly  faith,  my  liege,  strangely,  yet  truly,  'twas 
a  ceremony  regally  performed,  and,  save  for  numbers,  regally 
attended." 

"  Thou  darest  not  tell  me  so  !"  exclaimed  the  king,  striking 
his  clenched  hand  fiercely  on  the  table.  "  I  tell  thee  thou 
darest  not ;  'tis  a  false  tale,  a  lie  thrust  upon  thee  to  rouse  thy 
spirit  but  to  laugh  at.  De  Valence,  I  tell  thee  'tis  a  thing  that 
cannot  be  !  Scotland  is  laid  too  low,  her  energies  are  crushed  ; 
her  best  and  bravest  lying  in  no  bloodless  graves.  Who  is  there 
to  attend  this  puppet  king,  save  the  few  we  miss  ?  who  dared 
provoke  our  wrath  by  the  countenance  of  such  a  deed  ?  Who 
would  dare  tempt  our  fury  by  placing  a  crown  on  the  rebel's 
head  '?  I  tell  thee  they  have  played  thee  false — it  cannot  be  !" 

"  Thy  valor  hath  done  much,  my  gracious  liege,"  returned 
Pembroke,  "  far  more  than  ever  king  hath  done  before ;  but 
pardon  me,  your  grace,  the  people  of  Scotland  are  not  yet 
crushed,  they  lie  apparently  in  peace,  till  a  chief  capable  of 
guiding,  lordly  in  rank  and  knightly  in  war,  ariseth,  and  then 
they  too  stand  forth.  Yet  what  are  they  ?  they  do  but  nomi- 
nally swell  the  rebel's  court ;  they  do  but  seem  a  multitude, 
which  needs  but  thy  presence  to  disperse.  He  cannot,  if  he 
dare,  resist  thee." 

"  And   wherefore   should    these   tidings   so   disturb    your 


70  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

grace  ?"  interposed  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  a  brave,  blunt  sol- 
dier, like  his  own  charger,  snuffing  the  scent  of  war  far  off. 
"  We  have  but  to  bridle  on  our  harness,  and  we  shall  hear  no 
more  of  solemn  farces  like  to  this.  Give  but  the  word,  my 
sovereign,  and  these  ignoble  rebels  shall  be  cut  off  to  a  man, 
by  an  army  as  numerous  and  well  appointed  as  any  that  have 
yet  followed  your  grace  to  victory ;  'tis  a  pity  they  have  but  to 
encounter  traitors  and  rebels,  instead  of  knightly  foes,"  con- 
tinued the  High  Constable  of  England. 

"  Perchance  Robert  of  Carrick  deems  the  assumption  of  king 
will  provoke  your  grace  to  combat  even  more  than  his  traitor- 
ous rebellion,  imagining,  in  his  madness,  the  title  of  king  may 
make  ye  equals,"  laughingly  observed  the  Earl  of  Arundel ; 
and  remarks  and  opinions  of  similar  import  passed  round,  but 
Edward,  who  had  snatched  the  papers  as  he  ceased  to  speak, 
and  was  now  deeply  engrossed  in  their  contents,  neither  replied 
to  nor  heeded  them.  Darker  and  darker  grew  the  frown  upon 
his  brow ;  his  tightly  compressed  lip,  his  heaving  chest  betray- 
ing the  fearful  passion  that  agitated  him ;  but  when  he  spoke, 
there  was  evidently  a  struggle  for  that  dignified  calmness  which 
in  general  distinguished  him,  though  ever  and  anon  burst  forth 
the  undisguised  voice  of  wrath. 

"  Tis  well,  'tis  very  well,"  he  said.  "  These  wild  Scots 
would  tempt  us  to  the  utmost,  and  they  shall  be  satisfied. 
Ah  !  my  lords  of  Buchan  and  Fife,  give  ye  good  morrow. 
What  think  ye  of  these  doings  amidst  your  countrymen,  be- 
think ye  they  have  done  well  ?" 

"  Well,  as  relates  to  their  own  ruin,  aye,  very  well,  my  liege ; 
they  act  but  as  would  every  follower  of  the  murderer  Bruce," 
replied  Buchan,  harshly  and  sullenly. 

"  They  are  mad,  stark  mad,  your  highness ;  the  loss  of  a 
little  blood  may  bring  them  to  their  senses,"  rejoined  the  more 
volatile  Fife. 

"  And  is  it  thus  ye  think,  base,  villainous  traitors  as  ye  are, 
leagued  with  the  rebel  band  in  his  coronation  ?  My  Lord  of 
Chester,  attach  them  of  high  treason." 

"What  means  your  grace?"  exclaimed  both  noblemen  at 
once,  but  in  very  different  accents.  "  Of  what  are  we  charged, 
and  who  dare  make  this  lying  accusation  ?" 

"Are  ye  indeed  so  ignorant?"  replied  the  king,  jibingly. 
"  Know  ye  not  that  Isabella,  Countess  of  Buchan,  and  repre- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BBTJCE.  71 

sentative,  in  the  absence  of  her  brother,  of  the  earldom  of  Fife, 
hath  so  dared  our  displeasure  as  to  place  the  crown  on  the 
rebel's  head,  and  vow  him  homage  ?" 

"  Hath  she  indeed  dared  so  to  do  ?  By  heaven,  she  shall 
rue  this  !"  burst  wrathfully  from  Buchan,  his  swarthy  counte- 
nance assuming  a  yet  swarthier  aspect.  "  My  liege,  I  swear 
to  thee,  by  the  Holy  Cross,  I  knew  no  more  of  this  than  did 
your  grace.  Thinkest  thou  I  would  aid  and  abet  the  cause  of 
one  not  merely  a  rebel  and  a  traitor,  but  the  foul  murderer  of 
a  Comyn — one  at  whose  hands,  by  the  sword's  point,  have  I 
sworn  to  demand  my  kinsman,  and  avenge  him  ?" 

"  And  wherefore  did  Isabella  of  Buchan  take  upon  herself 
this  deed,  my  liege,  but  because  the  only  male  descendant  of  her 
house  refused  to  give  his  countenance  or  aid  to  this  false  earl  ? 
Because  Duncan  of  Fife  was  neither  a  rebel  himself  nor  gave 
his  aid  to  rebels.  On  the  honor  of  a  knight,  my  liege,  I  know 
naught  of  this  foul  deed." 

"  It  may  be,  it  may  be,"  answered  Edward,  impatiently. 
"  We  will  see  to  it,  and  condemn  ye  not  unheard ;  but  in  times 
like  these,  when  traitors  and  rebels  walk  abroad  and  insult  us 
to  our  very  teeth,  by  St.  Edward,  our  honor,  our  safety  de- 
mands the  committal  of  the  suspected  till  they  be  cleared. 
Resign  your  swords  to  my  Lord  of  Chester,  and  confine  your- 
selves to  your  apartments.  If  ye  be  innocent,  we  will  find 
means  to  repay  you  for  the  injustice  we  have  done  ;  if  not,  the 
axe  and  the  block  shall  make  short  work.  Begone  !" 

Black  as  a  thunderbolt  was  the  scowl  that  lowered  over  the 
brow  of  Buchan,  as  he  sullenly  unclasped  his  sword  and  gave 
it  into  the  Lord  Constable's  hand  ;  while  with  an  action  of 
careless  recklessness  the  Earl  of  Fife  followed  his  example,  and 
they  retired  together,  the  one  scowling  defiance  on  all  who 
crossed  his  path,  the  other  jesting  and  laughing  with  each 
and  all. 

"  I  would  not  give  my  best  falcon  as  pledge  for  the  Countess 
of  Buchan's  well-doing,  an  she  hath  done  this  without  her  lord's 
connivance,"  whispered  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  one  of  his  fa- 
vorites, with  many  of  whom  he  had  been  conversing,  in  a  low 
voice,  as  if  his  father's  wrathful  accents  were  not  particularly 
grateful  to  his  ear. 

"  Nor  would  I  pledge  a  hawk  for  her  safety,  if  she  fall  into 
his  grace's  hands,  whether  with  her  lord's  consent  or  no,"  re- 


72  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE, 

plied  the  young  nobleman,  laughing.  "  Your  royal  father  is 
fearfully  incensed." 

"  Better  destroy  them  root  and  branch  at  once,"  said  the 
prince,  who,  like  all  weak  minds,  loved  any  extremity  better 
than  a  protracted  struggle.  "  Exterminate  with  fire  and  sword ; 
ravage  the  land  till  there  be  neither  food  for  man  nor  beast ;  let 
neither  noble  nor  serf  remain,  and  then,  perchance,  we  shall 
hear  no  more  of  Scotland.  On  my  faith,  I  am  sick  of  the 
word." 

"  Not  so  the  king,  my  royal  lord,"  returned  his  companion. 
"  See  how  eagerly  he  talks  to  my  lords  of  Pembroke  and 
Hereford.  We  shall  have  our  sovereign  yet  again  at  our 
head." 

And  it  was  even  as  he  said.  The  king,  with  that  strong 
self-command  which  disease  alone  could  in  any  way  cause  to 
fail,  now  conquering  alike  his  bitter  disappointment  and  the 
fury  it  engendered,  turned  his  whole  thought  and  energy  to- 
wards obtaining  the  downfall  of  his  insolent  opponents  at  one 
stroke ;  and  for  that  purpose,  summoning  around  him  the 
brave  companions  of  former  campaigns,  and  other  officers  of 
state,  he  retired  with  them  to  his  private  closet  to  deliberate 
more  at  length  on  the  extraordinary  news  they  had  received, 
and  the  best  means  of  nipping  the  rebellion  in  the  bud. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  evening  of  this  eventful  day  found  the  Scottish  earls 
seated  together  in  a  small  apartment  of  one  of  the  buildings 
adjoining  the  royal  palace,  which  in  the'  solemn  seasons  we 
have  enumerated  was  always  crowded  with  guests,  who  were 
there  feasted  and  maintained  at  the  king's  expense  during  the 
whole  of  their  stay.  Inconveniences  in  their  private  quarters 
were  little  heeded  by  the  nobles,  who  seldom  found  themselves 
there,  save  for  the  purpose  of  a  few  hours  sleep,  and  served 
but  to  enhance  by  contrast  the  lavish  richness  and  luxury  which 
surrounded  them  in  the  palace  and  presence  of  their  king ;  but 
to  the  Earls  of  Buchan  and  Fife  the  inconveniences  of  their 
quarters  very  materially  increased  the  irritability  and  annoy- 


THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  73 

ance  of  their  present  situation.  Fife  had  stretched  himself  on 
two  chairs,  and  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  broad  shelf  formed 
by  the  small  casement,  cast  many  wistful  glances  on  the  street 
below,  through  which  richly-attired  gallants,  both  on  foot  and 
horseback,  were  continually  passing.  He  was  one  of  those 
frivolous  little  minds  with  whom  the  present  is  all  in  all,  caring 
little  for  the  past,  and  still  less  for  the  future.  It  was  no  mar- 
vel, therefore,  that  he  preferred  the  utter  abandonment  of  his 
distracted  country  for  the  luxury  and  ease  attending  the  court 
and  camp  of  Edward,  to  the  great  dangers  and  little  recom- 
pense attending  the  toils  and  struggles  of  a  patriot.  The  only 
emotion  of  any  weight  with  him  was  the  remembrance  of  and 
desire  of  avenging  petty  injuries,  fancying  and .  aggravating 
them  when,  in  fact,  none  was  intended. 

Very  different  was  the  character  of  the  Earl  of  Buchan ; 
morose,  fierce,  his  natural  hardness  of  disposition  unsoftened 
by  one  whisper  of  chivalry,  although  educated  in  the  best  school 
of  knighthood,  and  continually  the  follower  of  King  Edward, 
he  adhered  to  him  first,  simply  because  his  estates  in  England 
were  far  more  to  his  taste  than  those  in  Scotland,  towards  which 
he  felt  no  filial  tie ;  and  soon  after  his  marriage,  repugnance  to 
his  high-minded  and  richly-gifted  countess,  which  ever  seemed 
a  reproach  and  slur  upon  himself,  kept  him  still  more  aloof, 
satisfied  that  the  close  retirement  in  which  she  lived,  the  desert 
and  rugged  situation  of  his  castle,  would  effectually  debar  her 
from  using  that  influence  he  knew  she  possessed,  and  keep  her 
wholly  and  solely  his  own ;  a  strange  kind  of  feeling,  when,  in 
reality,  the  wide  contrast  between  them  made  her  an  object  of 
dislike,  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  a  dark,  suspi- 
cious, jealous  temper  was  ever  at  work  within  him. 

"  Now,  do  but  look  at  that  fellow's  doublet,  Comyn.  Look, 
how  gay  they  pass  below,  and  here  am  I,  with  my  new,  richly- 
broidered  suit,  with  which  I  thought  to  brave  it  with  the  best 
of  them — here  am  I,  I  say,  pent  up  in  stone  walls  like  a  caged 
goldfinch,  'stead  of  the  entertainment  I  had  pictured ;  'tis  enough 
to  chafe  the  spirit  of  a  saint." 

"  And  canst  thou  think  of  such  things  now,  thou  sorry  fool  ?" 
demanded  Buchan,  sternly,  pausing  in  his  hurried  stride  up  and 
down  the  narrow  precincts  of  the  chamber ;  "  hast  thou  no 
worthier  subject  for  contemplation  ?" 

"  None,  save  thy  dutiful  wife's  most  dutiful  conduct,  Comyn, 
4 


fj4:  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

which,  being  the  less  agreeable  of  the  two,  I  dismiss  the  first. 
I  owe'  her  small  thanks  for  playing  the  representative  of  my 
house;  methinks,  her  imprisonment  would  better  serve  King 
Edward's  cause  and  ours  too." 

"  Aye,  imprisonment — imprisonment  for  life,"  muttered  the 
earl,  slowly.  "Let  but  King  Edward  restore  me  my  good 
sword,  and  he  may  wreak  his  vengeance  on  her  as  he  listeth.  Not 
all  the  castles  of  Scotland,  the  arms  of  Scottish  men,  dare  guard 
a  wife  against  her  husband ;  bitterly  shall  she  rue  this  deed." 

"  And  thy  son,  my  gentle  kinsman,  what  wilt  thou  do  with 
him,  bethink  thee  ?  Thou  wilt  find  him  as  great  a  rebel  as  his 
mother ;  I  have  ever  told  thee  thou  wert  a  fool  to  leave  him  so 
long  with  his  brainstruck  mother." 

"  She  hath  not,  she  dared  not  bring  him  with  her  to  the 
murderer  of  his  kinsman — Duncan  of  Fife,  I  tell  thee  she  dare 
not ;  but  if  she  hath,  why  he  is  but  a  child,  a  mere  boy,  in- 
capable of  forming  judgment  one  way  or  the  other." 

"  Not  so  much  a  child  as  thou  thinkest,  my  good  lord  ;  some 
sixteen  years  or  so  have  made  a  stalwart  warrior  ere  this.  Be 
warned  ;  send  off  a  trusty  messenger  to  the  Tower  of  Buchan, 
and,  without  any  time  for  warning,  bring  that  boy  as  the  host- 
age of  thy  good  faith  and  loyalty  to  Edward  ;  thou  wilt  thus 
cure  him  of  his  patriotic  fancies,  and  render  thine  interest 
secure,  and  as  thou  desirest  to  reward  thy  duitful  partner,  thou 
wilt  do  it  effectually  ;  for,  trust  me,  that  boy  is  the  very  apple 
of  her  eye,  in  her  affections  her  very  doting-place." 

"  Jest  not,  Duncan,  or  by  all  the  saints,  thou  wilt  drive  me 
mad !"  wrathfully  exclaimed  Buchan.  "  It  shall  be  as  thou 
sayest ;  and  more,  I  will  gain  the  royal  warrant  for  the  deed — 
permission  to  this  effect  may  shorten  this  cursed  confinement 
for  us  both.  I  have  forgotten  the  boy's  age ;  his  mother's 
high-sounding  patriotism  may  have  tinctured  him  already. 
Thou  smilest." 

"  At  thy  marvellous  good  faith  in  thy  wife's  patriotism,  good 
kinsman — oh,  well  perchance,  like  charity,  it  covereth  a  multi- 
tude of  sins." 

"  What  meanest  thou,  my  Lord  of  Fife  ?"  demanded  Buchan, 
shortly  and  abruptly,  pausing  in  his  walk  to  face  his  companion, 
his  suspicious  temper  instantly  aroused  by  Fife's  peculiar  tone. 
"  What  wouldst  thou  insinuate  ?  Tamper  not  with  me ;  thou 
knowest  I  am  no  subject  for  a  jest." 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  75 

"  I  have  but  to  look  on  thee  to  know  that,  my  most  solemn- 
visaged  brother.  I  neither  insinuate  nor  tamper  with  your 
lordship.  Simply  and  heartily  I  do  but  give  thee  joy  for  thy 
faith  in  female  patriotism,"  answered  Fife,  carelessly,  but  with 
an  expression  of  countenance  that  did  not  accord  with  his  tone. 

"  What,  in  the  fiend's  name,  then,  has  urged  her  to  this 
mad  act,  if  it  be  not  what  she  and  others  as  mad  as  she  call 
patriotism  ?" 

"  May  not  a  lurking  affection  for  the  Bruce  have  given  in- 
centive to  love  of  country  ?  Buchan,  of  a  truth,  thou  art  dull 
as  a  sword-blade  when  plunged  in  muddy  water." 

'•'  Affection  for  the  Bruce  ?  Thou  art  mad  as  she  is,  Duncan. 
What  the  foul  fiend,  knows  she  of  the  Bruce  ?  No,  no !  'tis 
too  wild  a  tale — when  have  they  ever  met  ?" 

"  More  often  than  thou  listeth,  gentle  kinsman,"  returned 
Fife,  with  just  sufficient  show  of  mystery  to  lash  his  companion 
into  fury.  "  I  could  tell  thee  of  a  time  when  Robert  of  Car- 
rick  was  domesticated  with  my  immaculate  sister,  hunting  with 
her,  hawking  with  her,  reading  with  her,  making  favorable  im- 
pressions on  every  heart  in  Fife  Castle  save  mine  own." 

"  And  she  loved  him  ! — she  was  loved,"  muttered  Buphan  ; 
"  and  she  vowed  her  troth  to  me,  the  foul-mouthed  traitress ! 
She  loved  him,  saidst  thou  ?" 

"  On  my  faith,  I  know  not,  Comyn.  Rumors,  I  know,  went 
abroad  that  it  would  have  been  better  for  the  Lady  Isabella's 
peace  and  honor  if  this  gallant,  fair-spoken  knight  had  kept 
aloof." 

"  And  thou,  her  brother,  carest  not  to  speak  these  things,  and 
in  that  reckless  tone  ?  By  St.  Swithin,  ye  are  well  matched," 
returned  Buchan,  with  a  short  and  bitter  laugh  of  scorn. 

"  Faith,  Comyn,  I  love  mine  own  life  and  comfort  too  well 
to  stand  up  the  champion  of  woman's  honor ;  besides,  I  vouch 
not  for.-  the  truth  of  floating  rumors.  I  tell  thee  but  what 
comes  across  my  brain ;  for  its  worth  thou  art  the  best  judge." 

"  I  were  a  fool  to  mine  own  interest  to  doubt  thee  now, 
little  worth  as  are  thy  wordf  in  common,"  again  muttered  the 
incensed  earl,  resuming  his  hasty  strides.  "  Patriotism  !  loyalty  ! 
ha,  ha!  high-sounding  words,  forsooth.  And  have  they  not 
met  since  then  until  now  ?"  he  demanded,  stopping  suddenly 
before  his  companion. 

"  Even  so,  fair  kinsman.     Whilst  thou  wert  doing  such  loyal 


76  THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

duty  to  Edward,  after  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  forgetting  thou 
hadst  a  wife  and  castle  to  look  after,  Robert  Earl  of  Carrick 
found  a  comfortable  domicile  within  thy  stone  walls,  and  in  the 
fair,  sweet  company  of  thine  Isabella,  my  lord.  No  doubt,  in 
all  honorable  and  seemly  intercourse ;  gallant  devotion  on  the 
one  side,  and  dignified  courtesy  on  the  other — nothing  more, 
depend  on't ;  still  it  seems  but  natural  that  the  memory  of  a 
comely  face  and  knightly  form  should  prove  incentives  to  loyalty 
and  patriotism." 

"  The  foul  fiend  take  thy  jesting  !"  exclaimed  Buchan.  "  Nat- 
ural, forsooth ;  aye,  the  same  nature  that  bade  me  loathe  the 
presence,  aye,  the  very  name  of  that  deceiving  traitress.  And 
so  that  smooth-faced  villain  Carrick  found  welcome  in  the  castle 
of  a  Comyn  the  months  we  missed  him  from  the  court.  Ha, 
ha !  thou  hast  done  me  good  service,  Lord  of  Fife.  I  had  not 
enough  of  injuries  before  to  demand  at  the  hand  of  Robert 
Bruce.  And  for  Dame  Isabella,  may  the  fury  of  every  fiend 
follow  me,  if  I  place  her  not  in  the  hands  of  Edward,  alive  or 
dead !  his  wrath  will  save  me  the  trouble  of  seeking  further 
vengeance." 

"  N»y,  thou  art  a  very  fool  to  be  so  chafed,"  coolly  observed 
Fife.  "Thou  hast  taken  no  care  of  thy  wife,  and  therefore 
hast  no  right  to  demand  strict  account  of  her  amusements  in 
thy  absence ;  and  how  do  we  know  she  is  not  as  virtuous  as 
the  rest  of  them  ?  I  do  but  tell  thee  of  these  things  to  pass 
away  the  time.  Ha !  there  goes  the  prince's  Gascon  favorite, 
by  mine  honor.  Gaveston  sports  it  bravely  ;  look  at  his  crim- 
son mantle  wadded  with  sables.  He  hath  changed  his  garb 
since  morning.  Faith,  he  is  a  lucky  dog !  the  prince's  love 
may  be  valued  at  some  thousand  marks  a  year — worth  possess- 
ing, by  St.  Michael !" 

A  muttered  oath  was  all  the  reply  which  his  companion 
vouchsafed,  nor  did  the  thunder-cloud  upon  his  brow  disperse 
that  evening. 

The  careless  recklessness  of  Fife  had  no  power  to  lessen  in 
the  earl's  mind  the  weight  of  the  shameful  charge  he  had  brought 
against  the  countess.  Buchan's  dark,  suspicious  mind  not  alone 
received  it,  but  cherished  it,  revelled  in  it,  as  giving  him  that 
which  he  had  long  desired,  a  good  foundation  for  dislike  and 
jealousy,  a  well-founded  pretence  for  every  species  of  annoy- 
ance and  revenge.  The  Earl  of  Fife,  who  had,  in  fact,  merely 


THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  77 

spoken,  as  he  had  said,  to  while  away  the  time,  and  for  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  his  brother-in-law  enraged,  thought  as  little 
of  his  words  after  as  he  had  before  they  were  uttered.  A 
licentious  follower  of  pleasure  in  every  form  himself,  he  im- 
agined, as  such  thoughtless  characters  generally  do,  that  every- 
body must  be  like  him.  From  his  weak  and  volatile  mind, 
then,  all  remembrance  of  that  evening's  conversation  faded  as 
soon  as  it  was  spoken ;  but  with  the  Earl  of  Buchan  it  re- 
mained brooding  on  itself,  and  filling  his  dark  spirit  with  yet 
blacker  fancies. 

The  confinement  of  the  Scottish  noblemen  was  not  of  long 
duration.  Edward,  whose  temper,  save  when  his  ambition  v^ 
concerned,  was  generally  just  and  equitable,  discovering,  after 
an  impartial  examination,  that  they  were  in  no  ways  connected 
with  the  affairs  in  the  north,  and  feeling  also  it  was  his  interest 
to  conciliate  the  regard  of  all  the  Scottish  nobles  disaffected  to 
Bruce,  very  soon  restored  them  alike  to  their  personal  liberty 
and  to  his  favor ;  his  courteous  apology  for  unjust  suspicion, 
frankly  acknowledging  that  the  news  from  Scotland,  combined 
with  his  irritating  disease,  had  rendered  him  blind  and  sus- 
picious, at  once  disarmed  Fife  of  wrath.  Buchan,  perhaps, 
had  not  been  so  easily  appeased  had  his  mind  been  less  darkly 
engrossed.  His  petition,  that  his  son  might  be  sent  for,  to  be 
placed  as  a  hostage  in  the  hands  of  Edward,  and  thus  saved 
from  the  authority  of  his  mother,  whom  he  represented  as  an 
artful,  designing  woman,  possessed  of  dangerous  influence,  was 
acceded  to  on  the  instant,  and  the  king's  full  confidence  restored. 
It  was  easy  to  act  upon  Edward's  mind,  already  incensed  against 
Isabella  of  Buchan  for  her  daring  defiance  of  his  power ;  and 
Buchan  did  work,  till  he  felt  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  wife  he 
hated  would  be  fully  cared  for  without  the  very  smallest  trouble 
or  interference  on  his  part,  save  the  obtaining  possession  of  her 
person  ;  that  the  vengeance  he  had  vowed  would  be  fully  per- 
fected, without  any  reproach  or  stigma  cast  upon  his  name. 

Meantime  the  exertions  of  the  King  of  England  for  the  sup- 
pression of  the  rebels  continued  with  unabated  ardor.  Orders 
were  issued  and  proclaimed  in  every  part  of  England  for  the 
gathering  together  one  of  the  noblest  and  mightiest  armies  that 
had  ever  yet  followed  him  to  war.  To  render  it  still  more 
splendidly  impressive,  and  give  fresh  incentive  to  his  subjects, 
whose  warlike  spiiit  he  perhaps  feared  might  be  somewhat  de- 


78  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

pressed  by  this  constant  call  upon  them  for  the  reduction  of  a 
country  ever  rising  in  revolt,  Edward  caused  proclamation  to  be 
severally  made  in  every  important  town  or  county,  "  that  all 
who  were  under  the  obligation  to  become  knights,  and  possessed 
the  necessary  means,  should  appear  at  Westminster  on  the 
coming  solemn  season  of  Whitsuntide,  where  they  should  be 
furnished  with  every  requisite,  save  and  except  the  trappings 
for  their  horses,  from  the  king's  wardrobe,  and  be  treated  with 
all  solemn  honor  and  distinction  as  best  befitted  their  rank,  and 
the  holy  vows  they  took  upon  themselves." 

A  proclamation  such  as  this,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  chivalric 
era,  was  all-sufficient  to  engage  every  Englishman  heart  and 
soul  in  the  service  of  his  king ;  and  ere  the  few  weeks  interven- 
ing between  Easter  and  Whitsuntide  were  passed,  Westminster 
and  its  environs  presented  a  scene  of  martial  magnificence  and 
knightly  splendor,  which  had  never  before  been  equalled. 
Three  hundred  noble  youths,  sons  of  earls,  barons,  and  knights, 
speedily  assembled  at  the  place  appointed,  all  attended  accord- 
ing to  their  rank  and  pretensions ;  all  hot  and  fiery  spirits, 
eager  to  prove  by  their  prompt  attendance  their  desire  to  accept 
their  sovereign's  invitation.  The  splendor  of  their  attire  seemed 
to  demand  little  increase  from  the  bounty  of  the  king,  but 
nevertheless,  fine  linen  garments,  rich  purple  robes,  and  superb 
mantles  woven  with  gold,  were  bestowed  on  each  youthful  can- 
didate, thus  strengthening  the  links  which  bound  him  to  his 
chivalric  sovereign,  by  the  gratification  of  his  vanity  in  addition 
to  the  envied  honors  of  knighthood.  As  our  tale  relates  more 
to  Scottish  than  to  English  history,  we  may  "not  linger  longer 
on  the  affairs  of  South  Britain  than  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  clear  comprehension  of  the  situation  of  her  far  less  nourish- 
ing sister.  Exciting  therefore  as  was  the  scene  enacted  in  West- 
minster, descriptive  as  it  was  of  the  spirit  of  the  age,  we  are 
compelled  to  give  it  but  a  hasty  glance,  and  pass  on  to  events 
of  greater  moment. 

Glorious,  indeed,  to  an  eyewitness,  must  have  been  the  cere- 
mony of  admitting  these  noble  and  valiant  youths  into  the  sol- 
emn mysteries  and  chivalric  honors  of  knighthood.  On  that 
day  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  first  dubbed  a  knight,  and  made 
Duke  of  Aquitaine  ;  and  so  great  was  the  pressure  of  the  crowd, 
in  their  eagerness  to  witness  the  ceremonial  in  the  abbey,  where 
the  prince  hastened  to  confer  his  newly-received  dignity  on  his 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  79 

companions,  that  three  knights  were  killed,  and  several  fainted 
from  heat  and  exhaustion.  Strong  war-horses  were  compelled 
to  drive  back  and  divide  the  pressing  crowds,  ere  the  ceremony 
was  allowed  to  proceed.  A  solemn  banquet  succeeded ;  and 
then  it  was  that  Edward,  whose  energy  of  mind  appeared  com- 
pletely to  have  annihilated  disease  and  weakness  of  frame,  made 
that  extraordinary  vow,  which  it  has  puzzled  both  historian  and 
antiquary  satisfactorily  to  explain.  The  matter  of  the  vow 
merely  betrayed  the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  man,  but  the 
manner  seemed  strange  even  in  that  age.  Two  swans,  decora- 
ted with  golden  nets  and  gilded  reeds,  were  placed  in  solemn 
pomp  before  the  king,  and  he,  with  imposing  fervor,  made  a 
solemn  vow  to  the  Almighty  and  the  swans,  that  he  would  go 
to  Scotland,  and,  living  or  dead,  avenge  the  murder  of  Comyn, 
and  the  broken  faith  of  the  traitorous  Scots.  Then,  with  that 
earnestness  of  voice  and  majesty  of  mien  for  which  he  was  re- 
markable, he  adjured  his  subjects,  one  and  all,  by  the  solemn 
fealty  they  had  sworn  to  him,  that  if  he  should  die  on  the 
journey,  they  would  carry  his  body  into  Scotland,  and  never 
give  it  burial  till  the  prince's  dominion  was  established  in  that 
country.  Eagerly  and  willingly  the  nobles  gave  the  required 
pledge ;  and  so  much  earnestness  of  purpose,  so  much  martial 
spirit  pervaded  that  gorgeous  assembly,  that  once  more  did 
hope  prevail  in  the  monarch's  breast,  once  more  did  he  believe 
his  ambitious  yearnings  would  all  be  fulfilled,  and  Scotland, 
rebellious,  haughty  Scotland,  lie  crushed  and  broken  at  his  feet. 
Once  more  his  dark  eye  flashed,  his  proud  lip  curled  with  its 
wonted  smiles  ;  his  warrior  form,  erect  and  firm  as  in  former 
days,  now  spurned  the  couch  of  disease,  and  rode  his  war-horse 
with  all  the  grace  and  ease  of  former  years.  A  gallant  army, 
under  the  command  of  Aymer  de  Valence,  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
had  already  been  dispatched  towards  Scotland,  bearing  with  it 
the  messengers  of  the  Earl  of  Buchan,  armed  both  with  their 
lord's  commands  and  Edward's  warrant  for  the  detention  of  the 
young  heir  of  Buchan,  and  to  bring  him  with  all  honor  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  king.  The  name  of  Isabella  of  Buchan  was  sub- 
joined to  that  of  the  Bruce,  and  together  with  all  those  con- 
cerned in  his  rising  proclaimed  as  traitors  and  a  price  set  upon 
their  heads.  This  done,  the  king  had  been  enabled  to  wait  with 
greater  tranquillity  the  assembling  of  his  larger  army,  and  after 
the  ceremonials  of  Westminster,  orders  were  issued  for  every 


80  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

earl  and  baron  to  proceed  with  their  followers  to  Carlisle,  which 
was  named  the  head-quarters  of  the  array,  there  to  join  their 
sovereign  with  his  own  immediate  troops.  The  Scottish  nobles 
Edward's  usual  policy  retained  in  honorable  posts  about  his 
person,  not  choosing  to  trust  their  fidelity  beyond  the  reach  of 
his  own  eye. 

Obedient  to  these  commands,  all  England  speedily  appeared 
in  motion,  the  troops  of  every  county  moving  as  by  one  impulse 
to  Carlisle.  Yet  there  were  some  of  England's  noblest  barons 
in  whose  breasts  a  species  of  admiration,  even  affection,  was  at 
work  towards  the  very  man  they  were  now  marching  to  destroy, 
and  this  was  frequently  the  case  in  the  ages  of  chivalry.  Fickle 
as  the  character  of  Robert  Bruce  had  appeared  to  be,  there  was 
that  in  it  which  had  ever  attracted,  riveted  the  regard  of  many 
of  the  noble  spirits  in  King  Edward's  court.  The  rash  daring 
of  his  enterprise,  the  dangers  which  encircled  him,  were  such 
as  dazzled  and  fascinated  the  imagination  of  those  knights  in 
whom  the  true  spirit  of  chivalry  found  rest.  Pre-eminent 
amongst  these  was  the  noble  Earl  of  Gloucester.  His  duty  to 
his  sovereign  urged  him  to  take  the  field ;  his  attachment  for 
the  Bruce  would  have  held  him  neuter,  for  the  ties  that  bound 
brothers  in  arms  were  of  no  common  or  wavering  nature. 
Brothers  in  blood  had  frequently  found  themselves  opposed 
horse  to  horse,  and  lance  to  lance,  on  the  same  field,  and  no 
scruples  of  conscience,  no  pleadings  of  affection,  had  power  to 
avert  the  unnatural  strife ;  but  not  such  was  it  with  brothers 
in  arms — a  link  strong  as  adamant,  pure  as  their  own  sword- 
steel,  bound  their  hearts  as  one ;  and  rather,  much  rather  would 
Gloucester  have  laid  down  his  own  life,  than  expose  himself  to 
the  fearful  risk  of  staining  his  sword  with  the  blood  of  his  friend. 
The  deepest  dejection  took  possession  of  his  soul,  which  not  all 
the  confidence  of  his  sovereign,  the  gentle,  affectionate  pleadings 
of  his  wife,  could  in  any  way  assuage. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


IT  was  the  month  of  June,  and  the  beautiful  county  of  Perth 
smiled  in  all  the  richness  and  loveliness  of  early  summer.     Not 


THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  81 

yet  had  the  signal  of  war  floated  on  the  pure  springy  breeze, 
not  yet  had  the  stains  of  blood  desecrated  the  gladsome  earth, 
although  the  army  of  De  Valence  was  now  within  very  few 
miles  of  Scone,  which  was  still  the  head-quarters  of  the  Scottish 
king.  Aware  of  the  very  great  disparity  of  numbers  between 
his  gallant  followers  and  those  of  Pembroke,  King  Robert  pre- 
ferred entrenching  himself  in  his  present  guarded  situation,  to 
meeting  De  Valence  in  the  open  field,  although  more  than  once 
tempted  to  do  so,  and  finding  extreme  difficulty  in  so  curbing 
the  dauntless  spirit  of  his  followers  as  to  incline  them  more  to- 
wards the  defensive  than  the  attack.  Already  had  the  fierce 
thunders  of  the  Church  been  launched  against  him  for  the  sin 
of  murder  committed  in  consecrated  ground.  Excommunication 
in  all  its  horrors  exposed  him  to  death  from  any  hand,  that  on 
any  pretence  of  private  hate  or  public  weal  might  choose  to 
strike  ;  but  already  had  there  arisen  spirits  bold  enough  to  dis- 
pute the  awful  mandates  of  the  Pope,  and  the  patriotic  prelates 
who  had  before  acknowledged  and  done  homage  to  their  sover- 
eign, now  neither  wavered  in  their  allegiance  nor  in  any  way 
sought  to  promulgate  the  sentence  thundered  against  him.  A 
calm  smile  had  passed  over  the  Bruce's  noble  features  as  the 
intelligence  of  the  wrath  of  Rome  *was  communicated  to  him. 

"  The  judge  and  the  avenger  is  in  heaven,  holy  father,"  he 
said ;  "  to  His  hands  I  commit  my  cause,  conscious  of  deserving, 
as  humbly  awaiting,  chastisement  for  that  sin  which  none  can 
reprobate  and  abhor  more  strongly  than  myself ;  if  blood  must 
flow  for  blood,  His  will  be  done.  I  ask  but  to  free  my  country, 
to  leave  her  in  powerful  yet  righteous  hands,  and  willingly  I  will 
depart,  confident  of  mercy  for  my  soul." 

Fearful,  however,  that  this  sentence  might  dispirit  his  subjects, 
King  Robert  watched  his  opportunity  of  assembling  and  address- 
ing them.  In  a  brief,  yet  eloquent  speech,  he  narrated  the  base, 
cold-blooded  system  of  treachery  of  Comyn ;  how,  when  trav- 
elling to  Scotland,  firmly  trusting  in,  and  depending  on,  the 
good  faith  the  traitor  had  so  solemnly  pledged,  a  brawl  had 
arisen  between  his  (Bruce's)  followers  and  some  men  in  the  garb 
of  Borderers,  who  were  discovered  to  be  emissaries  of  the  Red 
Comyn,  and  how  papers  had  been  found  on  them,  in  which  all 
that  could  expose  the  Bruce  to  the  deadly  wrath  of  Edward  was 
revealed,  and  his  very  death  advised  as  the  only  effectual  means 
of  quelling  his  efforts  for  the  freedom  of  Scotland,  and  crushing 

4* 


82  THE   DATS   OF   BEUCE. 

the  last  hopes  of  her  still  remaining  patriots.  He  told  them 
how,  on  the  natural  indignation  excited  by  this  black  treachery 
subsiding,  he  had  met  Sir  John  Comyn  at  Dumfries — how, 
knowing  the  fierce  irascibility  of  his  natural  temper,  he  had  will- 
ingly agreed  that  the  interview  Comyn  demanded  should  take 
place  in  the  church  of  the  Minorite  Friars,  trusting  that  the 
sanctity  of  the  place  would  be  sufficient  to  restrain  him. 

"  But  who  may  answer  for  himself,  my  friends  ?"  he  continued, 
mournfully ;  "  it  needs  not  to  dilate  on  that  dark  and  stormy 
interview,  suffice  it  that  the  traitor  sought  still  to  deceive,  still 
to  win  me  by  his  specious  sophistry  to  reveal  my  plans,  again 
to  be  betrayed,  and  that  Avhen  I  taunted  him  with  his  base, 
cowardly  treachery,  his  black  dishonor,  words  of  wrath  and 
hate,  and  blind  deluded  passion  arose  between  us,  and  the  spirit 
of  evil  at  .work  within  me  urged  my  rash  sword  to  strike.  Sub- 
jects and  ^friends,  I  plead  no  temptation  as  excuse,  I  make  no 
defence  ;  T  deplore,  I  contemn  the  deed.  If  ye  deem  me  wor- 
thy of  death,  if  ye  believe  the  sentence  of  our  holy  father  in 
God,  his  holiness  the  Pope,  be  just,  that  it  is  wholly  free  from 
the  machinations  of  England,  who,  deeming  force  of  arms  not 
sufficient,  would  hurl  the  wrath  of  heaven's  vicegerent  on  my 
devoted .  head,  go,  leave  me  to  the  fate  it  brings ;  your  oath  of 
allegiance  is  dissolved.  I  have  yet  faithful  followers,  to  make 
one  bold  stand  against  the  tyrant,  and  die  for  Scotland ;  but  if 
ye  absolve  me,  if  ye  will  yet  give  me  your  hearts  and  swords, 
oh,  fear  me  not,  my  countrymen,  we  may  yet  be  free  !" 

Cries,  tears,  and  blessings  followed  this  wisely-spoken  appeal, 
one  universal  shout  reiterated  their  vows  of  allegiance ;  those 
who  had  felt  terrified  at  the  mandate  of  their  spiritual  father, 
now  traced  it  not  to  his  impartial  judgment,  but  to  the  schemes 
of  Edward,  and  instantly  felt  its  weight  and  magnitude  had 
faded  into  air.  The  unwavering  loyalty  of  the  Primate  of  Scot- 
land, the  Bishop  of  Glasgow,  and  the  Abbot  of  Scone  strength- 
ened them  alike  in  their  belief  and  allegiance,  and  a  band  of 
young  citizens  were  instantly  provided  with  arms  at  the  expense 
of  the  town,  and  the  king  entreated  by  a  deputation  of  the 
principal  magistrates  to  accept  their  services  as  a  guard  extra- 
ordinary, lest  his  life  should  be  yet  more  endangered  from  pri- 
vate individuals,  by  the  sentence  under  which  he  labored  ;  and 
gratified  by  their  devotedness,  though  his  bold  spirit  spurned  all 
fear  of  secret  assassination,  their  request  was  graciously  accepted. 


THE   DAYS    OF   BEUCE.  83 

The  ceremony  of  knighthood  which  the  king  had  promised 
to  confer  on  several  of  his  young  followers  had  been  deferred 
until  the  present  time,  to  admit  of  their  preparing  for  their  in- 
auguration with  all  the  solemn  services  of  religion  which  the 
rites  enjoined. 

The  15th  day  of  June  was  the  time  appointed,  and  Nigel 
Bruce  and  Alan  of  Buchan  were  to  pass  the  night  previous,  in 
solemn  prayer  and  vigil,  in  the  abbey  church  of  Scone.  That 
the  rules  of  chivalry  should  not  be  transgressed  by  his  desire 
to  confer  some  honor  on  the  son  of  the  Countess  of  Buchan, 
which  would  demonstrate  the  high  esteem  in  which  she  was 
held  by  her  sovereign,  Alan  had  served  the  king,  first  as  page 
and  then  as  esquire,  in  the  interval  that  had  elapsed  since  his 
coronation,  and  now  he  beheld  with  ardor  the  near  completion 
of  the  honor  for  which  he  pined.  His  spirit  had  been  wrung 
well-nigh  to  agony,  when  amidst  the  list  of  the  prtBcribed  as 
traitors  he  beheld  his  mother's  name ;  not  so  much  at  the  dan- 
gers that  would  encircle  her — for  from  those  he  might  defend 
her — but  that  his  father  was  still  a  follower  of  the  unmanly 
tyrant,  who  would  even  war  against  a  woman — his  father  should 
still  calmly  assist  and  serve  the  man  who  set  a  price  upon  his 
mother's  head.  Alas !  poor  boy,  he  little  knew  that  father's 
heart. 

It  was  evening,  a  still,  oppressive  evening,  for  though  the 
sun  yet  shone  brightly  as  he  sunk  in  the  west,  a  succession 
of  black  thunder-clouds,  gradually  rising  higher  and  higher 
athwart  the  intense  blue  of  the  firmament,  seemed  to  threaten 
that  the  wings  of  the  tempest  were  already  brooding  on  the  dark 
bosom  of  night.  The  very  flowers  appeared  to  droop  beneath 
the  weight  of  the  atmosphere ;  the  trees  moved  not,  the  birds 
were  silent,  save  when  now  and  then  a  solitary  note  was  heard, 
and  then  hushed,  as  if  the  little  warbler  shrunk  back  in  his  leafy 
nest,  frightened  at  his  own  voice.  Perchance  it  was  the  still- 
ness of  nature  which  had  likewise  affected  the  inmates  of  a  re- 
tired chamber  in  the  palace,  for  though  they  sate  side  by  side, 
and  their  looks  betrayed  that  the  full  communion  of  soul  was 
not  denied,  few  words  were  spoken.  The  maiden  of  Buchan 
bent  over  the  frame  which  contained  the  blue  satin  scarf  she 
was  embroidering  with  the  device  of  Bruce,  in  gold  and  gems, 
and  it  was  Nigel  Bruce  who  sate  beside  her,  his  deep,  expres- 
sive eyes  fixed  upon  her  in  such  fervid,  such  eloquent  love,  that 


84:  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

seldom  was  it  she  ventured  to  raise  her  glance  to  his.  A  slight 
shadow  was  on  those  sweet  and  gentle  features,  perceptible, 
perchance,  to  the  eye  of  love  alone  ;  and  it  was  this  that,  after 
enjoying  that  silent  communion  of  the  spirit,  so  dear  to  those 
who  love,  which  bade  Nigel  fling  his  arm  around  that  slender 
form,  and  ask — 

"  What  is  it,  sweet  one  ?  why  art  thou  sad  ?" 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  Nigel,  for  indeed  I  know  not,"  she  answer- 
ed, simply,  looking  up  a  moment  in  his  face,  in  that  sweet 
touching  confidence,  which  made  him  draw  her  closer  to  his 
protecting  heart ;  "  save  that,  perchance,  the  oppression  of  na- 
ture has  extended  to  me,  and  filled  my  soul  with  unfounded 
fancies  of  evil.  I  ought  to  be  very  happy,  Nigel,  loved  thus 
by  thee,"  she  hid  her  eyes  upon  his  bosom;  "received  as  thy 
promised  bride,  not  alone  by  thy  kind  sisters,  thy  noble  broth- 
ers, but — Dimple-hearted  maiden  as  I  am — deemed  worthy  of 
thee  by  good  King  Robert's  self.  Nigel,  dearest  Nigel,  why, 
in  an  hour  of  joy  like  this,  should  dreams  of  evil  come  ?" 

"  To  whisper,  my  beloved,  that  not  on  earth  may  we  look 
for  the  perfection  of  joy,  the  fulness  of  bliss ;  that  while  the 
mortal  shell  is  round  us  joy  is  chained  to  pain,  and  granted  us 
but  to  lift  up  the  spirit  to  that  heaven  where  pain  is  banished, 
bliss  made  perfect;  dearest,  'tis  but  for  this!"  answered  the 
young  enthusiast,  and  the  rich  yet  somewhat  mournful  tones  of 
his  voice  thrilled  to  his  listener's  heart. 

"  Thou  speakest  as  if  thou,  too,  hadst  experienced  forebodings 
like  to  these,  my  Nigel,"  said  Agnes,  thoughtfully.  "  I  deemed 
them  but  the  foolishness  of  my  weaker  mind." 

"  Deem  them  not  foolishness,  beloved.  There  are  minds,  in- 
deed, that  know  them  not,  but  they  are  of  that  rude,  coarse 
material  which  owns  no  thought,  hath  no  hopes  but  those  of 
earth  and  earthly  things,  insensible  to  that  profundity  of  joy 
which  makes  us  feel  its  chain :  'tis  not  to  the  lightly  feeling 
such  forebodings  come." 

"  But  thou — hast  thou  felt  them,  Nigel,  dearest  ?  hast  thou 
listened  to,  believed  their  voice?" 

"  I  have  felt,  I  feel  when  I  gaze  on  thee,  sweet  one,  a  joy  so 
deep,  so  full,  that  I  scarce  dare  trace  it  to  an  earthly  cause," 
he  said,  slightly  evading  a  direct  answer.  " I  cannot  look  for- 
ward and,  as  it  were,  extend  that  deep  joy  to  the  future ;  but 
the  fetter"  binding  it  to  pain  reminds  me  I  am  mortal,  that, 


THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  85 

not  on  earth  may  I  demand  and  seek  and  hope  to  find  its  ful- 
filment." 

She  looked  up  in  his  face,  with  an  expression  both  of  bewil- 
derment and  fear,  and  her  hand  unconsciously  closed  on  his 
arm,  as  thus  to  detain  him  to  her  side. 

"  Yes,  my  beloved,"  lie  added,  with  more  animation,  "  it  is 
not  because  I  put  not  my  trust  in  earth  for  unfading  joy  that 
we  shall  find  not  its  sweet  flowers  below ;  that  our  paths  on 
earth  may  be  darkened,  because  the  fulness  of  bliss  is  alone  to 
be  found  in  heaven.  Mine  own  sweet  Agnes,  while  darkness 
and  strife,  and  blood  and  death,  are  thus  at  work  around  us,  is 
it  marvel  we  should  sometimes  dream  of  sorrow  ?  Yet,  oh  yet, 
have  we  not  both  the  same  hope,  the  same  God,  the  same  home 
in  heaven ;  and  if  our  doom  be  to  part  on  earth,  shall  we  not, 
oh,  shall  we  not  meet  in  bliss  ?  I  say  not  such  things  will  be, 
my  best  beloved ;  but  better  look  thus  upon  the  dim»shadow 
sometimes  resting  on  the  rosy  wings  of  joy,  than  ever  dismiss 
it  as  the  vain  folly  of  a  weakened  mind." 

He  pressed  his  lips,  which  quivered,  on  the  fair,  beautiful 
brow  then  resting  in  irresistible  sorrow  on  his  bosom ;  but  he 
did  not  attempt  by  words  to  check  that  maiden's  sudden  burst 
of  tears.  After  a  while,  when  he  found  his  own  emotion  suffi- 
ciently restrained,  soothingly  and  fondly  he  cheered  her  to 
composure,  and  drew  from  her  the  thoughts  which  had  dis- 
turbed her  when  he  first  spoke. 

"  'Twas  of  my  mother,  Nigel,  of  my  beloved,  my  noble  mother 
that  I  thought ;  proscribed,  hunted,  set  a  price  upon  as  a  traitor. 
Can  her  children  think  on  such  indignity  without  emotion — and 
when  I  remember  the  great  power  of  King  Edward,  who  has 
done  this — without  fear  for  her  fate  ?" 

"  Sweetest,  fear  not  for  her ;  her  noble  deed,  her  dauntless 
heroism  has  circled  her  with  such  a'  guard  of  gallant  knights 
and  warriors,  that,  in  the  hands  of  Edward,  trust  me,  dearest, 
she  shall  never  fall ;  and  even  if  such  should  be,  still,  I  say, 
fear  not.  Unpitying  and  cruel  as  Edward  is,  where  his  ambi- 
tion is  concerned,  he  is  too  true  a  knight,  too  noble  in  spirit  to 
take  a  woman's  blood ;  he  is  now  fearfully  enraged,  and  there- 
fore has  he  done  this.  And  as  to  indignity,  'tis  shame  to  the 
proscriber  not  to  the  proscribed,  my  love  !" 

"  There  is  one  I  fear  yet  more  than  Edward,"  continued  the 
maiden,  fearfully  ;  "  one  that  I  should  love  more.  Oh,  Nigel, 


86  THE  DATS  OF  BEUCE. 

my  very  spirit  shrinks  from  the  image  of  my  father.  I  have 
sought  to  love  him,  to  dismiss  the  dark  haunting  visions  which 
his  name  has  ever  brought  before  me.  I  saw  him  once,  but 
once,  and  his  stern  terrible  features  and  harsh  voice  so  terrified 
my  childish  fancies,  that  I  hid  myself  till  he  had  departed,  and 
I  have  never  seen  him  since,  and  yet,  oh  yet,  I  fear  him !" 

"  What  is  it  that  thou  fearest,  love  ?" 

"I  know  not,"  she  answered;  "but  if  evil  approach  my 
mother,  it  will  come  from  him,  and  so  silently,  so  unsuspectedly, 
that  none  may  avoid  it.  Nigel,  he  cannot  love  my  mother !  he 
is  a  foe  to  Bruce,  a  friend  of  the  slaughtered  Comyn,  and  will 
he  not  demand  a  stern  account  of  the  deed  that  she  hath  done  ? 
will  he  not  seek  vengeance  ?  and  oh,  will  he  not,  may  he  not  in 
wrath  part  thee  and  me,  and  thus  thy  bodings  be  fulfilled  ?" 

"  Agnes,  never !  The  mandate  of  man  shall  never  part  us ; 
the  power  of  man,  unless  my  limbs  be  chained,  shall  never 
sever  thee  and  me.  He  that  hath  never  acted  a  father's  part, 
can  have  no  power  on  his  child.  Thou  art  mine,  my  beloved  ! 
— mine  with  thy  mother's  blessing ;  and  mine  thou  shalt  be — 
no  earthly  power  shall  part  us.  Death,  death  alone  can  break 
the  links  that  bind  us,  and  must  be  of  God,  though  man  may 
seem  the  cause.  Be  comforted,  sweet  love.  Hark !  they  are 
chiming  vespers ;  I  must  be  gone  for  the  solemn  vigil  of  to- 
night, and  to-morrow  thou  shalt  arm  thine  own  true  knight, 
mine  Agnes,  and  deck  me  with  that  blue  scarf,  more  precious 
even  than  the  jewelled  sword  my  sovereign  brother  gives.  Fare- 
well, for  a  brief,  brief  while ;  I  go  to  watch  and  pray.  Oh,  let 
thy  orisons  attend  me,  and  surely  then  my  vigil  shall  be  blest." 

"  Pray  thou  for  me,  my  Nigel,"  whispered  the  trembling  girl, 
as  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  "  that  true  as  I  may  be,  strength 
befitting  thy  promised  bride  may  be  mine  own.  Nigel,  my  be- 
loved, indeed  I  need  such  prayer." 

He  whispered  hope  and  comfort,  and  departed  by  the  stone 
stairs  which  led  from  the  gothic  casement  where  they  had  been 
sitting,  into  the  garden;  he  lingered  to  gather  some  delicate 
blue-bells  which  had  just  blown,  and  turned  back  to  place  them 
in  the  lap  of  Agnes.  She  eagerly  raised  them  and  pressed 
them  to  her  lips,  but  either  their  fragile  blossoms  could  not 
bear  even  her  soft  touch,  or  the  heavy  air  had  inwardly  withered 
their  bloom,  for  the  blossoms  fell  from  their  stalks,  and  scattered 
their  beautiful  petals  at  her  feet. 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  87 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  hour  of  vespers  had  come  and  passed  ;  the  organ  and 
choir  had  hushed  their  solemn  sounds.  The  abbot  and  his 
attendant  monks,  the  king  who,  with  his  train,  had  that  evening 
joined  the  solemn  service,  all  had  departed,  and  but  two  inmates 
were  left  within  the  abbey  church  of  Scone.  Darkness  and 
silence  had  assumed  their  undisturbed  dominion,  for  the  waxen 
tapers  left  burning  on  the  altar  lighted  but  a  few  yards  round, 
leaving  the  nave  and  cloisters  in  impenetrable  gloom.  Some 
twenty  or  thirty  yards  east  of  the  altar,  elevated  some  paces 
from  the  ground,  in  its  light  and  graceful  shrine,  stood  an  ele- 
gantly sculptured  figure  of  the  Virgin  and  Child.  A  silver 
lamp,  whose  pure  flame  was  fed  with  aromatic  incense,  burned 
within  the  shrine  and  shed  its  soft  light  on  a  suit  of  glittering 
armor  which  was  hanging  on  the  shaft  of  a  pillar  close  beside 
it.  Directly  behind  the  altar  was  a  large  oriel  window  of 
stained  glass,  representing  subjects  from  Scripture.  The  win- 
dow, with  its  various  mullions  and  lights,  formed  one  high 
pointed  arch,  marked  by  solid  stone  pillars  on  each  side,  the 
capitals  of  which  traced  the  commencement  of  the  arch.  An- 
other window,  similar  in  character,  though  somewhat  smaller  in 
dimensions,  lighted  the  west  end  of  the  church ;  and  near  it 
stood  another  shrine  containing  a  figure  of  St.  Stephen,  lighted 
as  was  that  of  the  Virgin  and  Child,  and,  like  that,  gleaming  on 
a  suit  of  armor,  and  on  the  figure  of  the  youthful  candidate  for 
knighthood,  whose  task  was  to  pass  that  night  in  prayer  and 
vigil  beside  his  armor,  unarmed,  saved  by  that  panoply  of 
proof  which  is  the  Christian's  portion — faith,  lowliness,  and 
prayer. 

No  word  passed  between  these  pledged  brothers  in  arms. 
Their  watch  was  in  opposite  ends  of  the  church,  and  save  the 
dim,  solemn  light  of  the  altar,  darkness  and  immeasurable  space 
appeared  to  stretch  between  them.  Faintly  and  fitfully  the 
moon  had  shone  thi'ough  one  of  the  long,  narrow  windows  of 
the  aisles,  shedding  its  cold  spectral  light  for  a  brief  space, 
then  passing  into  darkness.  Heavy  masses  of  clouds  sailed 
slowly  in  the  heavens,  dimly  discernible  through  the  unpainted 
panes  ;  the  oppression  of  the  atmosphere  increasing  as  the  night 


88  THE   DAYS    OF   BKUCE. 

approached  her  zenith,  and  ever  and  anon  a  low,  long  peal  of 
distant  thunder,  each  succeeding  one  becoming  longer  and 
louder  than  the  last,  and  heralded  by  the  blue  flash  of  vivid 
lightning,  announced  the  fury  of  the  coming  tempest. 

The  imaginations  even  as  the  feelings  of  the  young  men  were 
already  strongly  excited,  although  their  thoughts,  perchance, 
were  less  akin  than  might  have  been  expected.  The  form  of 
his  mother  passed  not  from  the  mental  vision  of  the  young  heir 
of  Buchan  :  the  tone  of  her  voice,  the  unwonted  tear  which  had 
fallen  on  his  cheek  when  he  had  knelt  before  her  that  evening, 
ere  he  had  departed  to  his  post,  craving  her  blessing  on  his 
vigil,  her  prayers  for  him — that  tone,  that  tear,  lingered  on  his 
memory,  hallowing  every  dream  of  glory,  every  warrior  hope 
that  entered  in  his  soul.  Internally  he  vowed  he  would  raise 
the  banner  of  his  race,  and  prove  the  loyalty,  the  patriotism, 
the  glowing  love  of  liberty  which  her  counsels,  her  example  Ijad 
planted  in  his  breast ;  and  if  the  recollection  of  his  mother's 
precarious  situation  as  a  proscribed  traitor  to  Edward,  and  of 
his  father's  desertion  of  his  country  and  her  patriot  king  in  his 
adherence  to  a  tyrant — if  these  reflections  came  to  damp  the 
bright,  glowing  views  of  others,  they  did  but  call  the  indignant 
blood  to  his  cheek,  and  add  greater  firmness  to  his  impatient 
step,  for  yet  more  powerfully  did  they  awake  his  indignation 
against  Edward.  Till  now  he  had  looked  upon  him  exclusively 
in  the  light  of  Scotland's  foe — one  against  whom  he  with  all 
true  Scottish  men  must  raise  their  swords,  or  live  forever 
'neath  the  brand  of  slaves  and  cowards ;  but  now  a  personal 
cause  of  anger  added  fuel  to  the  fire  already  burning  in  his 
breast.  His  mother  was  proscribed — a  price  set  upon  her 
head  ;  and  as  if  to  fill  the  .measure  of  his  cup  of  bitterness  to 
overflowing,  his  own  father,  he  who  should  have  been  her  pro- 
tector, aided  and  abetted  the  cruel,  pitiless  Edward.  Traitress ! 
Isabella  of  Buchan  a  traitress  !  the  noblest,  purest,  bravest 
amid  Scotland's  children.  She  who  to  him  had  ever  seemed 
all  that  was  pure  and  good,  and  noblest  in  woman  ;  and  most 
noble  and  patriot-hearted  now,  in  the  fulfilment  of  an  office  in- 
herent in  the  House  of  Fife.  Agitated  beyond  expression, 
quicker  and  quicker  he  strode  up  and  down  the  precincts 
marked  for  his  watch,  the  increasing  tempest  without  seeming 
to  assimilate  strangely  with  the  storm  within.  Silence  would 
have  irritated,  would  have  chafed  those  restless  smartings  into 


THE   DAYS    OF   BKUCE.  89 

very  agony,  but  the  wild  war  of  the  elements,  while  they  roused 
his  young  spirit  into  yet  stronger  energy,  removed  its  pain. 

"  It  matters  not,"  his  train  of  thought  continued,  "  while 
this  brain  can  think,  this  heart  can  feel,  this  arm  retain  its 
strength,  Isabella  of  -Buchan  needs  no  other  guardian  but  her 
son.  It  is  as  if  years  had  left  their  impress  on  my  heart,  as  if 
I  had  grown  in  very  truth  to  man,  thinking  with  man's  wisdom, 
fighting  with  man's  strength.  He  that  hath  never  given  a 
father's  love,  hath  never  done  a  father's  duty,  hath  no  claim 
upon  his  child  ;  but  she,  whose  untiring  devotion,  whose  faith- 
ful love  hath  watched  over  me,  guarded,  blessed  from  the  first 
hour  of  my  life,  instilled  within  me  the  principles  of  life  on 
earth  and  immortality  in  heaven — mother !  mother !  will  not 
thy  gentle  virtues  cling  around  thy  boy,  and  save  him  even 
from  a  father's  curse  ?  Can  I  do  else  than  devote  the  life  thou 
gavest,  to  thee,  and  render  back  with  my  stronger  arm,  but  not 
less  firm  soul,  the  care,  protection,  love  thou  hast  bestowed  on 
me  ?  Mother,  Virgin  saint,"  he  continued  aloud,  flinging  him- 
self before  the  shrine  to  which  we  have  alluded,  "  hear,  oh  hear 
my  prayer  !  Intercede  for  me  above,  that  strength,  prudence, 
wisdom  may  be  granted  me  in  the  accomplishment  of  my 
knightly  vows ;  that  my  mother,  my  own  mother  may  be  the 
first  and  dearest  object  of  my  heart :  life,  fame,  and  honor  I 
dedicate  to  her.  Spare  me,  bless  me  but  for  her ;  if  danger, 
imprisonment  be  unavailingly  her  doom,  let  not  my  spirit  waver, 
nor  my  strength  flag,  nor  courage  no^r  foresight  fail,  till  she  is 
rescued  to  liberty  and  life." 

Wrapt  in  the  deep  earnest  might  of  prayer,  the  boy  remained 
kneeling,  with  clasped  hands,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  Virgin's 
sculptured  face,  his  spirit  inwardly  communing,  long,  long  after 
his  impassioned  vows  had  sunk  in  silence  ;  the  thunder  yet 
rolled  fearfully,  and  the  blue  lightning  flashed  and  played 
around  him  with  scarce  a  minute's  intermission,  but  no  emotion 
save  that  of  a  son  and  warrior  took  possession  of  his  soul.  He 
knew  a  terrific  storm  was  raging  round  him,  but  it  drew  him 
not  from  earthly  thoughts  and  earthly  feelings,  even  while  it 
raised  his  soul  in  prayer.  Very  different  was  the  effect  of  this 
lonely  vigil  and  awful  night  on  the  imaginative  spirit  of  his  com- 
panion. 

It  was  not  alone  the  spirit  of  chivalry  which  now  burned  in 
the  noble  heart  of  Nigel  Bruce.  He  was  a  poet,  and  the  glow- 


90  THE  DAYS  OF  BKUCE. 

ing  hues  of  poesie  invested  every  emotion  of  his  mind.  He 
loved  deeply,  devotedly  ;  and  love,  pure,  faithful,  hopeful  love, 
appeared  to  have  increased  every  feeling,  whether  of  grief  or 
joy,  in  intensity  and  depth.  He  felt  too  deeply  to  be  free  from 
that  peculiar  whispering  within,  known  by  the  world  as  pre- 
sentiment, and  as  such  so  often  scorned  and  contemned  as  the 
mere  offspring  of  weak,  superstitious  minds,  when  it  is  in  reality 
one  of  those  distinguishing  marks  of  the  higher,  more  ethereal 
temperament  of  genius. 

Perchance  it  is  the  lively  imagination  of  such  minds,  which 
in  the  very  midst  of  joy  can  so  vividly  portray  and  realize  pain, 
or  it  may  be,  indeed,  the  mysterious  voice  which  links  gifted 
man  with  a  higher  class  of  beings  to  whom  futurity  is  revealed. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  even  while  the  youthful  patriot  beheld 
with  a  visioned  eye  the  liberty  of  his  country,  and  rejoiced 
in  thus  beholding,  there  ever  came  a  dim  and  silent  shadowing, 
a  whispering  voice,  that  he  should  indeed  behold  it,  but  not 
from  earth.  When  the  devoted  brother  and  loyal  subject  pic- 
tured his  sovereign  in  very  truth  a  free  and  honored  king,  his 
throne  surrounded  by  nobles  and  knights  of  his  own  free  land, 
and  many  others,  the  enthusiast  saw  not  himself  amongst  them, 
and  yet  he  rejoiced  in  the  faith  such  things  would  be.  When 
the  young  and  ardent  lover  sate  by  the  side  of  his  betrothed, 
gazing  on  her  sweet  face,  and  drinking  in  deeply  the  gushing 
tide  of  joy;  when  his  spirit  pictured  yet  dearer,  lovelier,  more 
assured  bliss,  when  Agnes  would  be  in  very  truth  his  own,  still 
did  that  strange  thrilling  whisper  come,  and  promise  he  should 
indeed  experience  such  bliss,  but  not  on  earth ;  and  yet  he 
loved,  aye,  and  rejoiced,  and  there  came  not  one  shadow  on  his 
bright,  beautiful  face,  not  one  sad  echo  in  the  rich,  deep  tones 
of  his  melodious  voice  to  betray  such  dim  forebodings  had 
found  resting  in  his  soul. 

Already  excited  by  his  conversation  with  Agnes,  the  service 
in  which  he  found  himself  engaged  was  not  such  as  to  tran- 
quillize his  spirit,  or  still  his  full  heart's  quivering  throb.  His 
imaginative  soul  had  already  flung  its  halo  over  the  solemn  rites 
which  attended  his  inauguration  as  a  knight.  Even  to  less  en- 
thusiastic spirits  there  was  a  glow,  a  glory  in  this  ceremony 
which  seldom  failed  to  awake  the  soul,  and  inspire  it  with  high 
and  noble  sentiments.  It  was  not  therefore  strange  that  these 
emotions  should  in  the  heart  of  Nigel  Bruce  obtain  that  ascen- 


THE   DAYS  OF  BKUOE.  91 

dency,  which  to  sensitive  minds  must  become  pain.  Had  it 
been  a  night  of  calm  and  holy  stillness,  he  would  in  all  proba- 
bility have  felt  its  soothing  effect ;  but  as  it  was,  every  pulse 
throbbed  and  every  nerve  was  strained  'neath  his  strong  sense 
of  the  sublime.  He  could  not  be  said  to  think,  although  he 
had  struggled  long  and  fiercely  to  compose  his  mind  for  those 
de'votional  exercises  he  deemed  most  fitted  for  the  hour.  Feel- 
ing alone  possessed  him,  overwhelming,  indefinable ;  he  deemed 
it  admiration,  awe,  adoration  of  Him  at  whose  nod  the  mighty 
thunders  rolled  and  the  destructive  lightnings  flashed,  but  he 
could  not  define  it  such.  He  did  not  dream  of  earth,  not  even 
the  form  of  Agnes  flashed,  as  was  its  wont,  before  him ;  no,  it 
was  of  scenes  and  sounds  undreamed  of  in  earth's  philosophy 
he  thought ;  and  as  he  gazed  on  the  impenetrable  darkness, 
and  then  beheld  it  dispersed  by  the  repeated  lightning,  his  ex- 
cited fancy  almost  believed  that  he  should  see  it  peopled  by 
the  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead  which  slept  within  those  walls, 
and  no  particle  of  terror  attended  this  belief.  In  the  weak  su- 
perstition of  his  age,  Nigel  Bruce  had  never  shared,  but  firmly 
and  steadfastly  he  believed,  even  in  his  calm  and  unexcited  mo- 
ments, that  there  was  a  link  between  the  living  and  the  dead  ; 
that  the  freed  spirits  of  the  one  were  permitted  to  hold  com- 
mune with  the  other,  not  in  visible  shape,  but  in  those  thrilling 
whispers  which  the  spirit  knows,  while  yet  it  would  deny  them 
even  to  itself.  It  was  the  very  age  of  superstition ;  religion 
itself  was  clothed  in  a  veil  of  solemn  mystery,  which  to  minds 
constituted  as  Nigel's  gave  it  a  deeper,  more  impressive  tone. 
Its  ceremonies,  its  shrines,  its  fictions,  all  gave  fresh  zest  to  the 
imagination,  and  filled  the  heart  of  its  votary  with  a  species  of 
devotion  and  excitement,  which  would  now  be  considered  as 
mere  visionary  madness,  little  in  accordance  with  the  true  spirit 
of  piety  or  acceptable  to  the  Most  High,  but  which  was  then 
regarded  as  meritorious  ;  and  even  as  we  look  back  upon  the 
saints  and  heroes  of  the  past,  even  now  should  not  be  con- 
demned ;  for,  according  to  the  light  bestowed,  so  is  devotion 
demanded  and  accepted  by  the  God  of  all. 

Nigel  Bruce  had  paused  in  his  hasty  walk,  and  leaning  against 
the  pillar  round  which  his  armor  hung,  fixed  his  eyes  for  a 
space  on  the  large  oriel  window  we  have  named,  whose  outline 
was  but  faintly  discernible,  save  on  the  left  side,  which  was 
dimly  illumined  by  the  silver  lamp  burning  in  the  shrine  of  St. 


92  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

Stephen,  close  beside  which  the  youthful  warrior  stood.  The 
storm  had  suddenly  sunk  into  an  awful  and  almost  portentous 
silence  ;  and  in  that  brief  interval  of  stillness  and  gloom,  Nigel 
felt  his  blood  flow  more  calmly  in  his  veins,  his  pulses  stilled 
their  starting  throbs,  and  the  young  soldier  crossed  his  arms 
on  his  breast,  and  bent  his  uncovered  head  upon  them  in  silent 
yet  earnest  prayer. 

The  deep,  solemn  chime  of  the  abbey -bell,  echoing  like  a 
spirit-voice  through  the  arched  and  silent  church,  roused  him, 
and  he  looked  up.  At  the  same  moment  a  strong  and  awfully 
brilliant  flash  of  lightning  darted  through  the  window  on  which 
his  eyes  were  fixed,  followed  by  a  mighty  peal  of  thunder, 
longer  and  louder  than  any  that  had  come  before.  For  above 
a  minute  that  blue  flash  lingered  playing,  it  seemed,  on  steel, 
and  a  cold  shuddering  thrill  crept  through  the  frame  of  Nigel 
Bruce,  sending  the  life-blood  from  his  cheek  back  to  his  very 
heart,  for  either  fancy  had  again  assumed  her  sway,  and  more 
vividly  than  before,  or  his  wild  thoughts  had  found  a  shape 
and  semblance.  Within  the  arch  formed  by  the  high  window 
stood  or  seemed  to  stand  a  tall  and  knightly  form,  clad  from 
the  gorget  to  the  heel  in  polished  steel  ;  his  head  was  bare, 
and  long,  dark  hair  shaded  a  face  pale  and  shadowy  indeed, 
but  strikingly  and  eminently  noble  ;  there  was  a  scarf  across 
his  breast,  and  on  it.  Nigel  recognized  the  cognizance  of  his  own 
line,  the  crest  and  motto  of  the  Bruce.  It  could  not  have 
been  more  than  a  minute  that  the  blue  lightning  lingered  there, 
yet  to  his  excited  spirit  it  was  long  enough  to  impress  indelibly 
and  startlingly  every  trace  of  that  strange  vision  upon  his  heart. 
The  face  was  turned  to  his,  with  a  solemn  yet  sorrowful  earnest- 
ness of  expression,  and  the  mailed  hand  raised  on  high,  seemed 
pointing  unto  heaven.  The  flash  passed  and  all  was  darkness, 
the  more  dense  and  impenetrable,  from  the  vivid  light  which 
had  preceded  it ;  but  Nigel  stirred  not,  moved  not,  his  every 
sense  absorbed,  not  in  the  weakness  of  mortal  terror,  but  in  one 
overwhelming  sensation  of  awe,  which,  while  it  oppressed  the 
spirit  well-nigh  to  pain,  caused  it  to  long  with  an  almost  sick- 
ening intensity  for  a  longer  and  clearer  view  of  that  which  had 
come  and  passed  with  the  lightning  flash.  Again  the  vivid 
blaze  dispersed  the  gloom,  but  no  shadow  met  his  fixed  impas- 
sioned gaze.  Vision  or  reality,  the  form  was  gone  ;  there  was 
no  trace,  no  sign  of  that  which  had  been.  For  several  succes- 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  93 

sive  flashes  Nigel  remained  gazing  on  the  spot  where  the  mailed 
form  had  stood,  as  if  he  felt  it  would,  it  must  again  appear ; 
but  as  time  sped,  and  he  saw  but  space,  the  soul  relaxed  from 
its  high-wrought  mood,  the  blood,  which  had  seemed  stagnant 
in  his  veins,  rushed  back  tumultuously  through  its  varied  chan- 
nels, and  Nigel  Bruce  prostrated  himself  before  the  altar,  to 
wrestle  with  his  perturbed  spirit  till  it  found  calm  in  prayer. 

A  right  noble  and  glorious  scene  did  the  great  hall  of  the 
palace  present  the  morning  which  followed  this  eventful  night. 
The  king,  surrounded  by  his  highest  prelates  and  nobles,  min- 
gling indiscriminately  with  the  high-born  dames  and  maidens 
of  his  court,  all  splendidly  attired,  occupied  the  upper  part  of 
the  hall,  the  rest  of  which  was  crowded  both  by  his  military 
followers  and  many  of  the  good  citizens  of  Scone,  who  flocked 
in  great  numbers  to  behold  the  august  ceremony  of  the  day. 
Two  immense  oaken  doors  at  the  south  side  of  the  hall  were 
flung  open,  and  through  them  was  discerned  the  large  space 
forming  the  palace  yard,  prepared  as  a  tilting-ground,  where 
the  new-made  knights  were  to  prove  their  skill.  The  storm 
had  given  place  to  a  soft  breezy  morning,  the  cool  freshness 
of  which  appearing  peculiarly  grateful  from  the  oppressiveness 
of  the  night ;  light  downy  clouds  sailed  over  the  blue  expanse 
of  heaven,  tempering  without  clouding  the  brilliant  rays  of  the 
sun.  Every  face  was  clothed  with  smiles,  and  the  loud  shouts 
which  hailed  the  youthful  candidates  for  knighthood,  as  they 
severally  entered,  told  well  the  feeling  with  which  the  patriots 
of  Scotland  were  regarded. 

Some  twenty  youths  received  the  envied  honor  at  the  hand 
of  their  sovereign  this  day,  but  our  limits  forbid  a  minute  scru- 
tiny of  the  bearing  of  any,  however  well  deserving,  save  of  the 
two  whose  vigils  have  already  detained  us  so  long.  A  yet 
longer  and  louder  shout  proclaimed  the  appearance  of  the 
youngest  scion  of  the  house  of  Bruce,  and  his  companion.  The 
daring  patriotism  of  Isabella  of  Buchan  had  enshrined  her  in 
every  heart,  and  so  disposed  all  men  towards  her  children,  that 
the  name  of  their  traitorous  father  was  forgotten.  . 

Led  by  their  godfathers,  Nigel  by  his  brother-in-law,  Sir 
Christopher  Seaton,  and  Alan  by  the  Earl  of  Lennox,  their 
swords,  which  had  been  blessed  by  the  abbot  at  the  altar, 
slung  round  their  necks,  they  advanced  up  the  hall.  There 
was  a  glow  on  the  cheek  of  the  young  Alan,  in  which  pride 


94  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

and  modesty  were  mingled ;  his  step  at  first  was  unsteady,  and 
his  lip  was  seen  to  quiver  from  very  bashfulness,  as  he  first 
glanced  round  the  hall  and  felt  that  every  eye  was  turned  to- 
wards him ;  but  when  that  glance  met  his  mother's  fixed  on 
him,  and  breathing  that  might  of  love  which  filled  her  heart, 
all  boyish  tremors  fled,  the  calm,  staid  resolve  of  manhood  took 
the  place  of  the  varying  glow  upon  his  cheek,  the  quivering  lip 
became  compressed  and  firm,  and  his  step  faltered  not  again. 

The  cheek  of  Nigel  Bruce  was  pale,  but  there  was  firmness 
in  the  glance  of  his  bright  eye,  and  a  smile  unclouded  in  its 
joyance  on  his  lip.  The  frivolous  lightness  of  the  courtier,  the 
mad  bravado  of  knight-errantry,  which  was  not  uncommon  to 
the  times,  indeed,  were  not  there.  It  was  the  quiet  courage 
of  the  resolved  warrior,  the  calm  of  a  spirit  at  peace  with  itself, 
shedding  its  own  high  feeling  and  poetic  glory  over  all  around 
him. 

On  reaching  the  foot  of  King  Robert's  throne,  both  youths 
knelt  and  laid  their  sheathed  swords  at  his  feet.  Their  armor- 
bearers  then  approached,  and  the  ceremony  of  clothing  the 
candidates  in  steel  commenced  ;  the  golden  spur  was  fastened 
on  the  left  foot  of  each  by  his  respective  godfather,  while 
Athol,  Hay,  and  other  nobles  advanced  to  do  honor  to  the 
youths,  by  aiding  in  the  ceremony.  Nor  was  it  warriors  alone. 

"  Is  this  permitted,  lady  ?"  demanded  the  king,  smiling,  as 
the  Countess  of  Buchan  approached  the  martial  group,  and, 
aided  by  Lennox,  fastened  the  polished  cuirass  on  the  form  of 
her  son.  "  Is  it  permitted  for  a  matron  to  arm  a  youthful 
knight  ?  Is  there  no  maiden  to  do  such  inspiring  office  ?" 

"  Yes,  when  the  knight  be  one  as  this,  my  liege,"  she  an- 
swered, in  the  same  tone ;  "  let  a  matron  arm  him,  good  my 
liege,"  she  added,  sadly — "let  a  mother's  hand  enwrap  his 
boyish  limbs  in  steel,  a  mother's  blessing  mark  him  thine  and 
Scotland's,  that  those  who  watch  his  bearing  in  the  battle-field 
may  know  who  sent  him  there,  may  thrill  his  heart  with  memo- 
ries of  her  who  stands  alone  of  her  ancestral  line,  that  though 
he  bears  the  name  of  Comyn,  the  blood  of  Fife  flows  reddest 
in  his  veins." 

"  Arm  him  and  welcome,  noble  lady,"  answered  the  king, 
and  a  buzz  of  approbation  ran  through  the  hall ;  "  and  may 
thy  noble  spirit  and  dauntless  loyalty  inspire  him ;  we  shall  not 
need  a  trusty  follower  while  such  as  he  are  round  us.  Yet,  in 


THE  DAYS   OF  BEUOE.  95 

very  deed,  my  youthful  knight  must  have  a  lady  fair  for  whom 
he  tilts  to-day.  Come  hither,  Isoline ;  thou  lookest  verily  in- 
clined to  envy  thy  sweet  friend  her  office,  and  nothing  loth  to 
have  a  loyal  knight  thyself.  Come,  come,  my  pretty  one,  no 
blushing  now.  Lennox,  guide  those  tiny  hands  aright." 

Laughing  and  blushing,  Isoline,  the  daughter  of  Lady  Camp- 
bell, a  sister  of  the  Bruce,  a  graceful  child  of  some  thirteen 
summers,  advanced,  nothing  loth,  to  obey  her  royal  uncle's 
summons,  and  an  arch  smile  of  real  enjoyment  irresistibly  stole 
over  the  countenance  of  Alan,  dispersing  the  emotion  his 
mother's  words  produced. 

"Nay,  tremble  not,  sweet  one,"  the  king  continued,  in  a 
lower  and  yet  kinder  tone,  as  he  turned  from  the  one  youth  to 
the  other,  and  observed  that  Agnes,  overpowered  by  emotion, 
had  scarcely  power  to  perform  her  part,  despite  the  whispered 
words  of  encouraging  affection  Nigel  murmured  in  her  ear. 
Imaginative  to  a  degree,  which,  by  her  quiet,  subdued  manners, 
was  never  suspected,  the  simple  act  of  those  early  flowers 
withering  in  her  grasp,  fresh  as  they  were  from  the  hand  of  her 
betrothed,  had  weighed  down  her  spirits  as  with  an  indefinable 
sense  of  pain,  which  she  could  not  combat.  The  war  of  the 
elements,  attending  as  it  did  the  vigil  of  her  lover,  had  not  de- 
creased these  feelings,  and  the  morning  found  her  dispirited  and 
shrinking  in  sensitiveness  from  the  very  scene  she  had  antici- 
pated with  joy. 

"  It  must  not  be  with  a  trembling  hand  the  betrothed  of  a 
Bruce  arms  her  chosen  knight,  fair  Agnes,"  continued  the  king, 
cheeringly.  "  She  must  inspire  him  with  valor  and  confidence. 
Smile,  then,  gentlest  and  loveliest ;  we  would  have  all  smiles 
to-day." 

And  she  did  smile,  but  it  was  a  smile  of  tears,  gleaming  on 
her  beautiful  face  as  a  sunny  beam  through  a  glistening  spray. 
One  by  one  the  cuirass  and  shoulder-pieces,  the  greaves  and 
gauntlets,  the  gorget  and  brassards,  the  joints  of  which  were 
so  beautifully  burnished  that  they  shone  as  mirrors,  and  so 
flexible  every  limb  had  its  free  use,  enveloped  those  manly  forms. 
Their  swords  once  again  girt  to  their  sides,  and  once  more  keel- 
ing, the  king  descended  from  his  throne,  and  alternately  dub- 
bed them  knight  in  the  name  of  God,  St.  Michael,  and  St. 
George: 

"  Be  faithful,  brave,  and  hardy,  youthful  cavaliers,"  he  said ; 


96  THE   DAYS   OP   BRUCE. 

"  true  to  the  country  which  claims  ye,  to  the  monarch  ye  have 
sworn  to  serve,  to  the  knight  from  whose  sword  ye  have  re- 
ceived the  honor  ye  have  craved.  Remember,  'tis  not  the  tour- 
nay  nor  the  tilted  field  in'which  ye  will  gain  renown.  For 
your  country  let  your  swords  be  drawn  ;  against  her.  foes  reap 
laurels.  Sir  Nigel,  'tis  thine  to  retain  unsullied  the  name  thou 
bearest,  to  let  the  Bruce  be  glorified  in  thee.  And  thou,  Sir 
Alan,  'tis  thine  to  earn  a  name — in  very  truth,  to  win  thy 
golden  spurs ;  to  prove  we  do  no  unwise  deed,  forgetting  thy 
early  years,  to  do  honor  to  thy  mother's  son." 

Lightly  and  eagerly  the  new-made  knights  sprung  to  their 
feet,  the  very  clang  of  their  glittering  armor  ringing  gratefully 
and  rejoicingly  in  their  ears.  Their  gallant  steeds,  barded 
and  richly  caparisoned,  held  by  their  esquires,  stood  neighing 
and  pawing  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  leading  from  the  oaken 
doors. 

Without  touching  the  stirrup,  both  sprung  at  the  same  in- 
stant in  their  saddles  ;  the  helmet,  with  its  long  graceful  plume, 
was  quickly  donned  ;  the  lance  and  shield  received  ;  the  pennon 
adorning  the  iron  head  of  each  lowered  a  moment  in  honor  to 
their  sovereign,  then  waved  gayly  in  air,  and  then  each  lance 
was  laid  in  rest ;  a  trumpet  sounded,  and  onward  darted  the 
fiery  youths  thrice  round  the  lists,  displaying  a  skill  and  cour- 
age in  horsemanship  which  was  hailed  with  repeated  shouts  of 
applause.  But  on  the  tournay  and  the  banquet  which  suc- 
ceeded the  ceremony  we  have  described  we  may  not  linger,  but 
pass  rapidly  on  to  a  later  period  of  the  same  evening. 

Sir  Nigel  and  his  beautiful  betrothed  had  withdrawn  a  while 
from  the  glittering  scene  around  them ;  they  had  done  their 
part  in  the  graceful  dance,  and  now  they  sought  the  compara- 
tive solitude  and  stillness  of  the  flower-gemmed  terrace,  on 
which  the  ball-room  opened,  to  speak  unreservedly  the  thoughts 
which  had  filled  each  heart ;  perchance  there  were  some  yet 
veiled,  for  the  vision  of  the  preceding  night,  the  strange,  incon- 
gruous fancies  it  had  engendered  in  the  youthful  warrior,  a 
solemn  vow  had  buried  deep  in  his  own  soul,  and  not  even  to 
Agnes,  to  whom  his  heart  was  wont  to  be  revealed,  might  such 
thoughts  find  words ;  and  she  shrunk  in  timidity  from  avowing 
the  inquietude  of  her  own  simple  heart,  and  thus  it  was  that 
each,  for  the  sake  of  the  other,  spoke  hopefully  and  eheeringly, 
and  gayly,  until  at  length  they  were  but  conscious  of  mutual 


THE   DAYS   OF  BEUCE.  97 

and  devoted  love — the  darkening  mists  of  the  future  lost  in  the 
radiance  of  the  present  sun. 

A  sudden  pause  in  the  inspiring  music,  the  quick  advance  of 
all  the  different  groups  towards  orle  particular  spot,  had  failed 
perchance  to  interrupt  the  happy  converse  of  the  lovers,  had 
not  Sir  Alan  hastily  approached  them,  exclaiming,  as  he  did  so — 

"  For  the  love  of  heaven !  Nigel,  forget  Agnes  for  one  mo- 
ment, and  come  along  with  me.  A  messenger  from  Pembroke 
has  just  arrived,  bearing  a  challenge,  or  something  very  like  it, 
to  his  grace  the  king ;  and  it  may  be  we  shall  win  our  spurs 
sooner  than  we  looked  for  this  morning.  The  sight  of  Sir 
Henry  Seymour  makes  the  war  trumpet  sound  in  mine  ears. 
Come,  for  truly  there  is  something  astir." 

With  Agnes  still  leaning  on  his  arm,  Nigel  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons of  his  impatient  friend,  and  joined  the  group  around  th'e 
king.  There  was  a  quiet  dignity  in  the  attitude  and  aspect  of 
Robert  Bruce,  or  it  might  be  the  daring  patriotism  of  his  enter- 
prise was  appreciated  by  the  gallant  English  knight ;  certain  it 
was  that,  though  Sir  Henry's  bearing  had  been  somewhat 
haughty,  his  brow  knit,  and  his  head  still  covered,  as  he  passed 
up  the  hall,  by  an  irresistible  impulse  he  doffed  his  helmet  as 
he  met  the  eagle  glance  of  the  Bruce,  and  bowed  his  head  re- 
spectfully before  him,  an  example  instantly  followed  by  his 
attendants. 

"  Sir  Henry  Seymour  is  welcome  to  our  court,"  said  the 
king,  courteously ;  "  welcome,  whatever  message  he  may  bear. 
How  fares  it  with  the  chivalric  knight  and  worthy  gentleman, 
Aymer  de  Valence,  Earl  of  Pembroke  ?  Ye  bring  us  a  mes- 
sage from  him,  'tis  said.  Needs  it  a  private  hearing,  sir  knight  ? 
if  so,  we  are  at  your  service ;  yet  little  is  it  Ayraer  de  Valence 
can  say  to  Scotland's  king  which  Scotland  may  not  hear." 

"  Pembroke  is  well,  an  please  you,  and  sendeth  greeting," 
replied  the  knight.  "  His  message,  sent  as  it  is  to  the  Bruce, 
is  well  fitted  for  the  ears  of  his  followers,  therefore  may  it  be 
spoken  here.  He  sendeth  all  loving  and  knightly  greeting  unto 
him  known  until  now  as  Robert  Earl  of  Carrick,  and  bids  him, 
an  he  would  proclaim  and  prove  the  rights  he  hath  assumed, 
come  forth  from  the  narrow  precincts  of  a  palace  and  town, 
which  ill  befit  a  warrior  of  such  high  renown,  and  give  him 
battle  in  the  Park  of  Methven,  near  at  hand.  He  challenges 
him  to  meet  him  there,  with  nobles,  knights,  and  yeomen,  who 

5 


98  THE   DAYS  OF   BRUCE. 

proclaiming  Robert  Bruce  their  sovereign,  cast  down  the  gaunt- 
let of  defiance  and  rebellion  against  their  rightful  king  and  mine, 
his  grace  of  England ;  he  challenges  thee,  sir  knight,  or  earl,  or 
king,  whichever  name  thou  b§arest,  and  dares  thee  to  the  field." 

"  And  what  if  we  accept  not  his  daring  challenge  ?"  de- 
manded King  Robert,  sternly,  without  permitting  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  to  satisfy  in  any  way  the  many  anxious 
glances  fixed  upon  it. 

"  He  will  proclaim  thee  coward  knight  and  traitor  slave," 
boldly  answered  Sir  Henry.  "  In  camp  or  in  hall,  in  lady's 
bower  or  tented  field,  he  will  proclaim  thee  recreant ;  one  that 
took  upon  himself  the  state  and  pomp  of  royalty  without  the 
spirit  to  defend  and  prove  it." 

"  Had  he  done  so  by  our  predecessor,  Baliol,  he  had  done 
well,"  returned  the  king,  calmly.  "  Nobles,  and  knights,  and 
gentlemen,"  he  added,  the  lion  spirit  of  his  race  kindling  in  his 
eye  and  cheek,  "  what  say  ye  in  accepting  the  bold  challenge 
of  this  courtly  earl  ?  Do  we  not  read  your  hearts  as  well  as 
our  own  ?  Ye  have  chafed  and  fretted  that  we  have  retained 
ye  so  long  inactive :  in  very  truth  your  monarch's  spirit  chafed 
and  fretted  too.  We  will  do  battle  with  this  knightly  foe,  and 
give  him,  in  all  chivalric  and  honorable  courtesy,  the  meeting 
he  desires." 

One  startling  and  energetic  shout  burst  simultaneously  from 
the  warriors  around,  forming  a  wild  and  thrilling  response  to 
their  sovereign's  words.  In  vain  they  sought  to  restrain  that 
outbreak  of  rejoicing,  in  respect  to  the  royal  presence ;  they 
had  pined,  they  had  yearned  for  action,  and  Sir  Henry  was  too 
good  a  knight  himself  not  to  understand  to  the  full  the  patriotic 
fervor  and  chivalrous  spirit  from  which  that  shout  had  sprung. 
Proudly  and  joyfully  the  Bruce  looked  on  his  devoted  adhe- 
rents, and  then  addressed  the  English  knight. 

"  Thou  hast  our  answer,  good  Sir  Henry,"  he  said  ;  "  more 
thou  couldst  scarcely  need.  Commend  us  to  your  master,  and 
take  heed  thou  sayest  all  that  thou  hast  heard  and  seen  in  an- 
swer to  his  challenge.  In  the  Park  of  Methven,  three  days 
hence,  he  may  expect  the  King  of  Scotland  and  his  patriot 
troops  with  him,  to  do  battle  unto  death.  Edward,  good 
brother,  thou,  Seaton,  and  the  Lord  of  Douglas,  conduct  this 
worthy  knight  in  all  honor  from  the  hall.  Thou  hast  our 
answer." 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  99 

The  knight  bowed  low,  but  ere  he  retreated  he  spoke  again. 
"  I  am  charged  with  yet  another  matter,  an  it  so  please  you," 
he  said,  evidently  studying  to  avoid  all  royal  titles,  although 
the  bearing  of  the  king  rendered  his  task  rather  more  difficult 
than  he  could  have  imagined;  "a  matter  of  small  import,  truly, 
yet  must  it  be  spoken.  Tis  rumored  that  you  have  amid  your 
household  a  child,  a  boy,  whose  father  was  a  favored  servant 
of  my  gracious  liege  and  yours,  King  Edward.  The  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign  and  of  the  child's 
father,  bids  me  demand  him  of  thee,  as  having,  from  his  tender 
years  and  inexperience,  no  will  nor  voice  in  this  matter,  he 
having  been  brought  here  by  his  mother,  who,  saving  your 
presence,  had  done  better  to  have  remembered  her  duty  to  her 
husband  than  encourage  rebellion  against  her  king." 

"  Keep  to  the  import  of  thy  message,  nor  give  thy  tongue 
such  license,  sir,"  interrupted  the  Bruce,  sternly ;  and  many 
an  eye  flashed,  and  many  a  hand  sought  his  sword.  "  Sir  Alan 
of  Buchan,  stand  forth  and  give  thine  own  answer  to  this  im- 
perative demand  ;  'tis  to  thee,  methinks,  its  import  would  refer. 
Thou  hast  wisdom  and  experience,  if  not  years  enough,  to  an- 
swer for  thyself. 

"  Tell  Aymer  de  Valence,  would  he  seek  me,  he  will  find  me 
by  the  side  of  my  sovereign  King  Robert,  in  Methven  Park, 
three  days  hence,"  boldly  and  quickly  answered  the  young  sol- 
dier, stepping  forward  from  his  post  in  the  circle,  and  fronting 
the  knight.  "  Tell  him  I  am  here  of  my  own  free  will,  to  ac- 
knowledge Robert  the  Bruce  as  mine  and  Scotland's  king  ;  to 
defy  the  tyrant  Edward,  even  to  the  death ;  tell  him  'tis  no 
child  he  seeks,  but  a  knight  and  soldier,  who  will  meet  him  on 
the  field." 

"  It  would  seem  we  are  under  some  mistake,  young  sir,"  re- 
plied Sir  Henry,  gazing  with  unfeigned  admiration  on  the  well- 
knit  frame  and  glowing  features  of  the  youthful  knight.  "  I 
speak  of  and  demand  the  surrender  of  the  son  and  heir  of  John 
Comyn,  Earl  of  Buchan,  who  was  represented  to  me  as  a  child 
of  some  ten  or  thirteen  summers  ;  'tis  with  him,  not  with  thee, 
my  business  treats." 

"  And  'tis  the  son — I  know  not  how  long  heir — of  John 
Comyn,  Earl  of  Buchan,  who  speaks  with  thee,  sir  knight.  It 
may  well  be,  my  very  age,  my  very  existence  hath  been  forgot- 
ten by  my  father,"  he  added,  with  a  fierceness  and  bitterness 


100  THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE. 

little  in  accordance  with  his  years,  "  aye,  and  would  have  been 
remembered  no  more,  had  not  the  late  events  recalled  them ; 
yet  'tis  even  so — and  that  thy  memory  prove  not  treacherous, 
there  lies  my  gage.  Foully  and  falsely  hast  thou  spoken  of 
Isabella  of  Buchan,  and  her  honor  is  dear  to  her  son  as  is  his 
own.  In  Methven  Park  we  two  shall  meet,  sir  knight,  and  the 
child,  the  puny  stripling,  who  hath  of  his  own  nor  voice  nor 
will,  will  not  fail  thee,  be  thou  sure." 

Proudly,  almost  sternly,  the  boy  fixed  his  flashing  orbs  on 
the  English  knight,  and  without  removing  his  glance,  strode 
to  the  side  of  his  mother  and  drew  her  arm  within  his  own. 
There  was  something  in  the  accent,  in  the  saddened  yet  reso- 
lute expression  of  his  countenance,  which  forbade  all  rejoinder, 
not  from  Sir  Henry  alone,  but  even  from  his  own  friends.  Sey- 
mour raised  the  gage,  and  with  a  meaning  smile  secured  it  in 
his  helmet ;  then  respectfully  saluting  the  group  around  him, 
withdrew,  attended  as  desired  by  the  Bruce. 

"  Heed  it  not,  my  boy,  my  own  noble  boy  !"  said  the  Count- 
ess of  Buchan,  in  those  low,  earnest,  musical  tones  peculiarly 
her  own  ;  for  she  saw  that  there  was  a  quivering  in  the  lip,  a 
sudden  paleness  in  the  cheek  of  her  son,  as  he  gazed  up  in  her 
face,  when  he  thought  they  stood  alone,  which  denoted  inter- 
nal emotion  yet  stronger  than  that  which  had  inspired  his  pre- 
vious words.  "  Their  scorn,  their  contumely,  I  heed  as  little 
as  the  mountain  rock  the  hailstones  which  fall  upon  its  sides, 
in  vain  seeking  to  penetrate  or  wound.  Nay,  I  could  smile  at 
them  in  very  truth,  were  it  not  that  compelled  as  I  am  to  act 
alone,  to  throw  aside  as  worthless  and  rejected  those  natural 
ties  I  had  so  joyed  to  wear,  my  heart  seems  closed  to  smiles ; 
but  for  words  as  those,  or  yet  harsher  scorn,  grieve  not,  my 
noble  boy,  they  have  no  power  to  fret  or  hurt  me." 

"  Yet  to  hear  them  speak  in  such  tone  of  thee — thee,  whose 
high  soul  and  noble  courage  would  shame  a  score  of  some  who 
write  themselves  men  ! — thee,  who  with  all  a  woman's  loving 
heart,  and  guileless,  unselfish,  honorable  mind,  hath  all  a  war- 
rior's stern  resolve,  a  patriot's  noble  purpose  !  Mother,  mother, 
how  may  thy  son  brook  scorn  and  falsity,  and  foul  calumny 
cast  upon  thee  ?"  and  there  was  a  choking  suffocation  in  his 
throat,  filling  his  eyes  perforce  with  tears  ;  and  had  it  not  been 
that  manhood  struggled  for  dominion,  he  would  have  flung 
himself  upon  his  mother's  breast  and  wept. 


THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  101 

"  As  a  soldier  and  a  man,  my  son,"  she  drew  him  closer  to 
her  as  she  spoke ;  "  as  one  who,  knowing  and  feeling  the  worth 
of  the  contemned  one,  is  conscious  that  the  foul  tongues  of  evil 
men  can  do  no  ill,  but  fling  back  the  shame  upon  themselves. 
Arouse  thee,  my  beloved  son.  Alas !  when  I  look  on  thee,  on 
thy  bright  face,  on  those  graceful  limbs,  so  supple  now  in 
health  and  life,  and  feel  to  what  my  deed  may  have  devoted 
thee,  my  child,  my  child,  I  need  not  slanderous  tongues  to 
grieve  me !" 

"  And  doth  the  Countess  of  Buchan  repent  that  deed  ?" 
asked  the  rich  sonorous  voice  of  the  Bruce,  who,  unobserved, 
had  heard  their  converse.  "  Would  she  recall  that  which  she 
hath  done  ?" 

"  Sire,  not  so,"  she  answered  ;  "  precious  as  is  my  child  to 
this  lone  heart — inexpressibly  dear  and  precious — yet  if  the 
liberty  of  his  country  demand  me  to  resign  him,  the  call  shall 
be  obeyed." 

"  Speak  not  thus,  noble  lady,"  returned  the  king,  cheerily. 
"  He  is  but  lent,  Scotland  asks  no  more ;  and  when  heaven 
smiles  on  this  poor  country,  smiles  in  liberty  and  peace,  trust 
me,  such  devotedness  will  not  have  been  in  vain.  Our  youth- 
ful knight  will  lay  many  a  wreath  of  laurel  at  his  mother's  feet, 
nor  will  there  then  be  need  to  guard  her  name  from  scorn. 
See  what  new  zest  and  spirit  have  irradiated  the  brows  of  our 
warlike  guests  ;  we  had  scarce  deemed  more  needed  than  was 
there  before,  yet  the  visit  of  Sir  Henry  Seymour,  bearing  as  it 
did  a  challenge  to  strife  and  blood,  hath  given  fresh  lightness 
to  every  step,  new  joyousness  to  every  tone.  Is  not  this  as  it 
should  be  ?" 

"  Aye,  as  it  must  be,  sire,  while  loyal  hearts  and  patriot 
spirits  form  thy  court.  Nobly  and  gallantly  was  the  answer 
given  to  Pembroke's  challenge.  Yet  pardon  me,  sire,  was  it 
wise — was  it  well  ?" 

"  Its  wisdom,  lady,  rests  with  its  success  in  the  hands  of  a 
higher  power,"  answered  the  king,  gravely,  yet  kindly.  "  Other 
than  we  did  we  could  not  do ;  rashly  and  presumptuously  we 
would  not  have  left  our  quarters.  Not  for  the  mere  chase  of, 
mad  wish  for  glory  would  we  have  risked  the  precious  lives  of 
our  few  devoted  friends,  but  challenged  as  we  were,  the  soul 
of  Bruce  could  not  have  spoken  other  than  he  did ;  nor  do  we 
repent,  nay,  we  rejoice  that  the  stern  duty  of  inaction  is  over. 


102  THE   DAYS    OF   BRUCE. 

Thine  eye  tells  me  thou  canst  understand  this,  lady,  therefore 
we  say  no  more,  save  to  beseech  thee  to  inspire  our  consort 
with  the  necessity  of  this  deed  ;  she  trembles  for  the  issue  of 
our  daring.  See  how  grave  and  sad  she  looks,  so  lately  as  she 
was  all  smiles." 

The  countess  did  not  reply,  but  hastened  to  the  side  of  the 
amiable,  but  yet  too  womanly  Queen  Margaret,  and  gently,  but 
invisibly  sought  to  soothe  her  fears  ;  and  she  partially  succeeded, 
for  the  queen  ever  seemed  to  feel  herself  a  bolder  and  firmer 
character  when  in  the  presence  and  under  the  influence  of  Isa- 
bella of  Buchan. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IT  was  a  gallant,  though,  alas !  but  too  small  a  force  which, 
richly  and  bravely  accoutred,  with  banners  proudly  flying, 
music  sounding,  superb  chargers  caparisoned  for  war,  lances  in 
rest,  and  spear  and  bill,  sword  and  battle-axe,  marched  through 
the  olden  gates  of  Scone  in  a  south-westward  direction,  early 
on  the  morning  of  the  25th  of  June,  1306.  Many  were  the 
admiring  eyes  and  yearning  hearts  which  followed  them,  and  if 
doubt  and  dread  did  mingle  in  the  fervid  aspirations  raised  for 
their  welfare  and  success,  they  were  not  permitted  to  gain  as- 
cendency so  long  as  the  cheering  tones  and  happy  smiles  of 
every  one  of  that  patriot  band  lingered  on  the  ear  and  sight. 
As  yet  there  were  but  few  of  the  nobles  and  knights  with  their 
men.  The  troops  had  been  commanded  to  march  leisurely  for- 
ward, under  charge  of  the  esquires  and  gentlemen,  who  were 
mostly  lieutenants  or  cornets  to  their  leaders'  respective  bands 
of  followers ;  and,  if  not  overtaken  before,  to  halt  in  a  large 
meadow  to  the  north  of  Perth,  which  lay  in  their  way. 

The  knots  of  citizens,  however,  who  had  accompanied  the 
army  to  the  farthest  environs  of  the  town,  had  not  dispersed  to 
their  several  homes  ere  the  quick,  noisy  clattering  of  a  gallant 
troop  of  horse  echoed  along  the  street,  and  the  king,  surrounded 
by  his  highest  nobles  and  bravest  knights,  galloped  by,  courte- 
ously returning  the  shouts  and  acclamations  of  delight  which 
hailed  him  on  every  side.  His  vizor  was  purposely  left  up,  and 
his  noble  countenance,  beaming  with  animation  and  hope,  seem- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  103 

ed  to  inspire  fresh  hope  and  confidence  in  all  that  gazed.  A 
white  ostrich  plume,  secured  to  his  helmet  by  a  rich  clasp  of 
pearls  and  diamonds,  fell  over  his  left  shoulder  till  it  well-nigh 
mingled  with  the  flowing  mane  of  his  charger,  whose  coal-black 
glossy  hide  was  almost  concealed  beneath  the  armor  which  en- 
veloped him,  and  the  saddle-cloth  of  crimson  velvet,  whose 
golden  fringe  nearly  swept  the  ground.  King  Robert  was 
clothed  in  the  same  superb  suit  of  polished  steel  armor,  inlaid 
and  curiously  wrought  with  ingrained  silver,  in  which  we  saw 
him  at  first ;  a  crimson  scarf  secured  his  trusty  sword  to  his 
side,  and  a  short  mantle  of  azure  velvet,  embroidered  with  the 
golden  thistle  of  Scotland,  and  lined  with  the  richest  sable,  was 
secured  at  his  throat  by  a  splendid  collaret  of  gems.  The  costly 
materials  of  his  dress,  and,  yet  more,  the  easy  and  graceful  seat 
upon  his  charger,  his  chivalric  bearing,  and  the  frank,  noble 
expression  of  his  countenance,  made  him,  indeed,  "  look  every 
inch  a  king,"  and  might  well  of  themselves  have  inspired  and 
retained  the  devoted  loyalty  of  his  subjects,  even  had  there  been 
less  of  chivalry  in  his  daring  rising. 

Edward  Bruce  was  close  beside  his  brother.  With  a  figure 
and  appearance  equally  martial  and  equally  prepossessing,  he 
wanted  the  quiet  dignity,  the  self-possession  of  voice  and  fea- 
ture which  characterized  the  king.  He  had  not  the  mind  of 
Robert,  and  consequently  the  uppermost  passion  of  the  spirit 
was  ever  the  one  marked  on  his  brow.  On  this  morning  he 
was  all  animated  smiles,  for  war  was  alike  his  vocation  and  his 
pastime. 

Thomas  and  Alexander  Bruce  were  also  there,  both  gallant 
men  and  well-tried  warriors,  and  eager  as  Edward  for  close  en- 
counter with  the  foe.  The  Earls  of  Lennox  and  Athol,  although 
perhaps  in  their  secret  souls  they  felt  that  the  enterprise  was 
rash,  gave  no  evidence  of  reluctance  in  their  noble  bearing ; 
indeed,  had  they  been  certain  of  marching  to  their  death,  they 
would  not  have  turned  from  the  side  of  Bruce.  The  broad 
banner  of  Scotland,  whose  ample  folds  waved  in  the  morning 
breeze,  had  been  intrusted  to  the  young  heir  of  Buchan,  who, 
with  the  other  young  and  new-made  knights,  eager  and  zealous 
to  win  their  spurs,  had  formed  a  body  guard  around  the  ban- 
ner, swearing  to  defend  it  to  the  last  moment  of  their  lives. 
Nigel  Bruce  was  one  of  these ;  he  rode  close  beside  his  brother 
in  arms,  and  midst  that  animated  group,  those  eager  spirits 


104:  THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE. 

throbbing  for  action,  no  heart  beat  quicker  than  his  own.  All 
was  animated  life,  anticipated  victory  ;  the  very  heavens  smiled 
as  if  they  would  shed  no  shadow  on  this  patriot  band. 

It  was  scarcely  two  hours  after  noon  when  King  Robert  and 
his  troops  arrived  at  the  post  assigned — the  park  or  wood  of 
Methven ;  and  believing  that  it  was  not  till  the  succeeding  day 
to  which  the  challenge  of  Pembroke  referred,  he  commanded 
his  men  to  make  every  preparation  for  a  night  encampment. 
The  English  troops  lay  at  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  on 
the  side  of  a  hill,  which,  as  well  as  tree  and  furze  would  per- 
mit, commanded  a  view  of  the  Bruce's  movements.  There 
were  tents  erected,  horses  picketed,  and  every  appearance  of 
quiet,  confirming  the  Scotch  in  their  idea  of  no  engagement 
taking  place  till  the  morrow. 

Aware  of  the  great  disparity  of  numbers,  King  Robert 
eagerly  and  anxiously  examined  his  ground  as  to  the  best  spot 
for  awaiting  the  attack  of  the  English.  He  fixed  on  a  level 
green  about  half  a  mile  square,  guarded  on  two  sides  by  a  thick 
wood  of  trees,  on  the  third  and  left  by  a  deep  running  rivulet, 
and  open  on  the  fourth,  encumbered  only  by  short,  thick  bushes 
and  little  knots  of  thorn,  which  the  king  welcomed,  as  imped- 
ing the  progress  and  obstructing  the  evolutions  of  Pembroke's 
horse.  The  bushes  which  were  scattered  about  on  the  ground 
he  had  chosen,  he  desired  his  men  to  clear  away,  and  ere  the 
sun  neared  his  setting,  all  he  wished  was  accomplished,  and  his 
plan  of  battle  arranged.  He  well  remembered  the  impenetrable 
phalanx  of  the  unfortunate  Wallace  at  the  battle  of  Falkirk, 
and  determined  on  exposing  a  steady  front  of  spears  in  the  same 
manner.  Not  having  above  thirty  horse  on  whom  he  could 
depend,  and  well  aware  they  would  be  but  a  handful  against 
Pembroke's  two  hundred,  he  placed  them  in  the  rear  as  a  re- 
serve, in  the  centre  of  which  waved  the  banner  of  Scotland. 
The  remainder  of  his  troops  he  determined  on  arranging  in  a 
compact  crescent,  the  bow  exposed  to  the  English,  the  line 
stretching  out  against  the  wood.  This  was  his  intended  line  of 
battle,  but,  either  from  mistake  or  purposed  treachery  on  the 
part  of  Pembroke,  his  plan  was  frustrated,  and  in  addition  to 
the  great  disparity  of  numbers  he  had  to  struggle  with  surprise. 

The  day  had  been  extremely  sultry,  and  trusting  in  full  con- 
fidence to  the  honor  of  his  opponent,  and  willing  to  give  his 
men  all  needful  rest,  the  king  dismissed  them  from  their  ranks 


THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE.  105 

to  refreshment  and  repose,  leaving  but  very  few  to  guard,  him- 
self retiring  with  his  older  officers  to  a  tent  prepared  for  his 
reception. 

Arm  in  arm,  and  deep  in  converse,  Nigel  Bruce  and  Alan  of 
Buchan  wandered  a  little  apart  from  their  companions,  prefer- 
ring a  hasty  meal  and  the  calm  beauty  of  a  lovely  summer  even- 
ing, accompanied  by  a  refreshing  breeze,  to  remaining  beside 
the  rude  but  welcome  meal,  and  sharing  the  festivity  which 
enlivened  it. 

"  Thinkest  thou  not,  Nigel,  his  grace  trusts  but  too  fully  to 
the  honor  of  these  Englishmen  ?"  asked  Alan,  somewhat 
abruptly,  turning  the  conversation  from  the  dearer  topics  of 
Agnes  and  her  mother,  which  had  before  engrossed  them. 

"  On  my  faith,  if  he  judge  of  them  by  his  own  true,  noble 
spirit,  he  judges  them  too  well." 

"  Nay,  thou  art  over-suspicious,  friend  Alan,"  answered 
Nigel,  smiling.  "  What  fearest  thou  ?" 

"  I  like  not  the  absence  of  all  guards,  not  so  much  for  the 
safety  of  our  own  camp,  but  to  keep  sharp  watch  on  the  move- 
ments of  our  friends  yonder.  Nigel,  there  is  some  movement ; 
they  look  not  as  they  did  an  hour  ago." 

"  Impossible,  quite  impossible,  Alan ;  the  English  knights 
are  too  chivalric,  too  honorable,  to  advance  on  us  to-night.  If 
they  have  made  a  movement,  'tis  but  to  repose." 

"  Nigel,  if  Pembroke  feel  inclined  to  take  advantage  of  our 
unguarded  situation,  he  will  swear,  as  many  have  done  before 
him,  that  a  new  day  began  with  the  twelve-chime  bell  of  this 
morning,  and  be  upon  us  ere  we  are  aware ;  and  I  say  again, 
there  is  movement,  and  warlike  movement,  too,  in  yonder  army. 
Are  tents  deserted,  and  horses  and  men  collected,  for  the  simple 
purpose  of  retiring  to  rest  ?  Come  with  me  to  yon  mound, 
and  see  if  I  be  not  correct  in  my  surmise." 

Startled  by  Alan's  earnest  manner,  despite  his  firm  reliance 
on  Pembroke's  honor,  Nigel  made  no  further  objection,  but 
hastened  with  him  to  the  eminence  he  named.  It  was  only  too 
true.  Silently  and  guardedly  the  whole  English  army,  extend- 
ing much  further  towards  Perth  than  was  visible  to  the  Scotch, 
had  been  formed  in  battle  array,  line  after  line  stretching  forth 
its  glittering  files,  in  too  compact  and  animated  array  to  admit 
of  a  doubt  as  to  their  intentions.  The  sun  had  completely 
sunk,  and  dim  mists  were  spreading  up  higher  and  higher  from 

5* 


106  THE  DATS   OF   BKUCE. 

the  horizon,  greatly  aiding  the  treacherous  movements  of  the 
English. 

"  By  heavens,  'tis  but  too  true !"  burst  impetuously  from 
Nigel's  lips,  indignation  expressed  in  every  feature.  "Base, 
treacherous  cowards  !  Hie  thee  to  the  king — fly  for  thy  life — 
give  him  warning,  while  I  endeavor  to  form  the  lines.  In  vain, 
utterly  in  vain !"  he  muttered,  as  Alan  with  the  speed  of  light- 
ning darted  down  the  slope.  "  They  are  formed — fresh,  both 
man  and  horse — double,  aye,  more  than  treble  our  numbers ; 
they  will  be  upon  us  ere  the  order  of  battle  can  be  formed,  and 
defeat  now — " 

He  would  not  give  utterance  to  the  dispiriting  truth  which 
closed  that  thought,  but  springing  forward,  dashed  through 
fern  and  brake,  and  halted  not  till  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  his 
companions,  who,  scattered  in  various  attitudes  on  the  grass, 
were  giving  vent,  in  snatches  of  song  and  joyous  laughter,  to 
the  glee  which  filled  their  souls. 

"  Up  !  up ! — the  foe !"  shouted  Nigel,  in  tones  so  unlike  the 
silvery  accents  which  in  general  characterized  him,  that  his 
companions  started  to  their  feet  and  grasped  their  swords,  as 
roused  by  the  sound  of  trumpet.  "  Pembroke  is  false :  to  arms 
— to  your  posts  !  Fitz-Alan — Douglas — sound  an  alarm,  and, 
in  heaven's  name,  aid  me  in  getting  the  men  under  arms  !  Be 
calm,  be  steady ;  display  no  alarm,  no  confusion,  and  all  may 
yet  be  well." 

He  was  obeyed.  The  quick  roll  of  the  drum,  the  sharp, 
quick  blast  of  the  trumpet  echoed  and  re-echoed  at  different 
sides  of  the  encampment ;  the  call  to  arms,  in  various  stentorian 
tones,  rung  through  the  woodland  glades,  quickly  banishing  all 
other  sounds.  Every  man  sprung  at  once  from  his  posture  of 
repose,  and  gathered  round  their  respective  leaders ;  startled, 
confused,  yet  still  in  order,  still  animated,  still  confident,  and 
yet  more  exasperated  against  their  foe. 

The  appearance  of  their  sovereign,  unchanged  in  his  com- 
posed and  warlike  mien,  evincing  perhaps  yet  more  animation 
in  his  darkly  flushing  cheek,  compressed  lip,  and  sparkling  eye  ; 
his  voice  still  calm,  though  his  commands  were  more  than 
usually  hurried ;  his  appearance  on  every  side,  forming,  ar- 
ranging, encouraging,  almost  at  the  same  instant — at  one  mo- 
ment exciting  their  indignation  against  the  treachery  of  the  foe, 
at  others  appealing  to  their  love  for  their  country,  their  homes, 


THE   DAYS   OF  BBUCE.  107 

their  wives,  to  their  sworn  loyalty  to  himself — inspired  courage 
and  confidence  at  the  same  instant  as  he  allayed  confusion  ;  but 
despite  every  effort  both  of  leader  and  men,  it  needed  time  to 
form  in  the  compact  order  which  the  king  had  planned,  and  ere 
it  was  accomplished,  nearer  and  nearer  came  the  English,  in- 
creasing their  pace  to  a  run  as  they  approached,  and  finally 
charging  in  full  and  overwhelming  career  against  the  unpre- 
pared but  gallant  Scots.  Still  there  was  no  wavering  amid  the 
Scottish  troops ;  still  they  stood  their  ground,  and  forming,  al- 
most as  they  fought,  in  closer  and  firmer  order,  exposing  the 
might  and  unflinching  steadiness  of  desperate  men,  determined 
on  liberty  or  death,  to  the  greater  number  and  better  discipline 
of  their  foe.  It  mattered  not  that  the  fading  light  of  day  had 
given  place  to  the  darker  shades  of  night,  but  dimly  illumined 
by  the  rising  moon — they  struggled  on,  knowing  as  if  by  in- 
stinct friend  from  foe.  And  fearful  was  it  to  watch  the  mighty 
struggles  from  figures  gleaming  as  gigantic  shadows  in  the 
darkness ;  now  and  then  came  a  deep  smothered  cry  or  burst- 
ing groan,  wrung  from  the  throes  of  death,  or  the  wild,  piercing 
scream  from  a  slaughtered  horse,  but  the  tongues  of  life  were 
silent ;  the  clang  of  armor,  the  clash  of  steel,  the  heavy  fall  of 
man  and  horse,  indeed  came  fitfully  and  fearfully  on  the  night 
breeze,  and  even  as  the  blue  spectral  flash  of  summer  lightning 
did  the  bright  swords  rise  and  fall  in  the  thick  gloom. 

"  Back,  back,  dishonored  knight !  back,  recreant  traitor !" 
shouted  James  of  Douglas ;  and  his  voice  was  heard  above  the 
roar  of  battle,  and  those  near  him  saw  him  at  the  same  instant 
spring  from  his  charger,  thrust  back  Pembroke  and  other 
knights  who  were  thronging  round  him,  and  with  unrivalled 
skill  and  swiftness  aid  a  tall  and  well-known  form  to  rise  and 
spring  on  the  horse  he  held  for  him.  "  Thinkest  thou  the  sa- 
cred person  of  the  King  of  Scotland  is  for  such  as  thee  ?  back, 
I  say !"  And  he  did  force  him,  armed  and  on  horseback  as  he 
was,  many  paces  back,  and  Robert  Bruce  again  galloped  over 
the  field,  bareheaded  indeed,  for  his  helmet  had  fallen  off  in  the 
strife,  urging,  inciting,  leading  on  yet  again  to  the  charge. 
And  it  was  in  truth  as  if  a  superhuman  strength  and  presence 
had  been  granted  the  patriot  king  that  night,  for  there  were 
veteran  warriors  there,  alike  English  and  Scotch,  who  paused 
even  in  the  work  of  strife  to  gaze  and  tremble. 

Again  was  he  unhorsed,  crushed  by  numbers — one  moment 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

more  and  he  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  his  foes,  and  Scotland 
had  lain  a  slave  forever  at  the  feet  of  England ;  but  again  was 
relief  at  hand,  and  the  young  Earl  of  Mar,  dashing  his  horse 
between  the  prostrate  monarch  and  his  thronging  enemies,  laid 
the  foremost,  who  was  his  own  countryman,  dead  on  the  field, 
and  remained  fighting  alone;  his  single  arm  dealing  deadly 
blows  on  every  side  at  the  same  moment  until  Robert  had  re- 
gained his  feet,  and,  though  wounded  and  well-nigh  exhausted, 
turned  in  fury  to  the  rescue  of  his  preserver.  It  was  too  late ; 
in  an  agony  of  spirit  no  pen  can  describe,  he  beheld  his  faith- 
ful and  gallant  nephew  overpowered  by  numbers  and  led  off  a 
captive,  and  he  stood  by,  fighting  indeed  like  a  lion,  dealing- 
death  wherever  his  sword  fell,  but  utterly  unable  to  rescue  or 
defend  him.  Again  his  men  thronged  round  him,  their  rallying 
point,  their  inspiring  hope,  their  guardian  spirit ;  again  he  was 
on  horseback,  and  still,  still  that  fearful  strife  continued.  Aid- 
ed by  the  darkness,  the  Bruce  in  his  secret  soul  yet  encouraged 
one  gleam  of  hope,  yet  dreamed  of  partial  success,  at  least  of 
avoiding  that  almost  worse  than  death,  a  total  and  irremediable 
defeat.  Alas,  had  the  daylight  suddenly  illumined  that  scene, 
he  would  have  felt,  have  seen  that  hope  was  void. 

Gallantly,  meanwhile,  gallantly  even  as  a  warrior  of  a  hun- 
dred fields,  had  the  young  heir  of  Buchan  redeemed  his  pledge 
to  his  sovereign,  and  devoted  sword  and  exposed  life  in  his 
cause.  The  standard  of  Scotland  had  never  touched  the  ground. 
Planting  it  firmly  in  the  earth,  he  had  for  a  while  defended  it 
nobly  where  he  stood,  curbing  alike  the  high  spirit  of  his  pranc- 
ing horse  and  his  own  intense  longing  to  dash  forward  in  the 
thickest  of  the  fight.  He  saw  his  companions  fall  one  by  one, 
till  he  was  well-nigh  left  alone.  He  heard  confused  cries,  as 
of  triumph ;  he  beheld  above  twenty  Englishmen  dashing  to- 
wards him,  and  he  felt  a  few  brief  minutes  and  his  precious 
charge  might  be  waved  in  scorn  as  a  trophy  by  the  victors ; 
the  tide  of  battle  had  left  him  for  an  instant  comparatively 
alone,  and  in  that  instant  his  plan  was  formed. 

"  Strike  hard,  and  fear  not !"  he  cried  to  an  old  retainer, 
who  stirred  not  from  his  side ;  "  divide  this  heavy  staff,  and  I 
will  yet  protect  my  charge,  and  thou  and  I,  Donald,  will  to 
King  Robert's  side ;  he  needs  all  true  men  about  him  now." 

Even  as  he  spoke  his  command  was  understood  and  obeyed. 
One  sweep  of  the  stout  Highlander's  battle-axe  severed  full 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  109 

four  feet  of  the  heavy  lance  to  which  the  standard  was  attached, 
and  enabled  Alan  without  any  inconvenience  to  grasp  in  his 
left  hand  the  remainder,  from  which  the  folds  still  waved ; 
grasping  his  sword  firmly  in  his  right,  and  giving  his  horse  the 
rein,  shouting,  "  Comyn,  to  the  rescue !"  he  darted  towards  the 
side  where  the  strife  waxed  hottest. 

It  was  a  cry  which  alike  startled  friends  and  foes,  for  that 
name  was  known  to  one  party  as  so  connected  with  devoted 
adherence  to  Edward,  to  the  other  so  synonymous  with  treach- 
ery, that  united  as  it  was  with  "to  the  rescue,"  some  there 
were  who  paused  to  see  whence  and  from  whom  it  came.  The 
banner  of  Scotland  quickly  banished  doubt  as  to  which  party 
that  youthful  warrior  belonged ;  knights  and  yeomen  alike 
threw  themselves  in  his  path  to  obtain  possession  of  so  dear  a 
prize.  Followed  by  about  ten  stalwart  men  of  his  clan,  the 
young  knight  gallantly  cut  his  way  through  the  greater  number 
of  his  opponents,  but  a  sudden  gleam  on  the  helmet  of  one  of 
them  caused  him  to  halt  suddenly. 

"  Ha !  Sir  Henry  Seymour,  we  have  met  at  length !"  he 
shouted.  "  Thou  bearest  yet  my  gage — 'tis  well.  I  am  here 
to  redeem  it." 

"  Give  up  that  banner  to  a  follower,  then,"  returned  Sir 
Henry,  courteously,  checking  his  horse  in  its  full  career,  "  for 
otherwise  we  meet  at  odds.  Thou  canst  not  redeem  thy  gage, 
and  defend  thy  charge  at  the  same  moment." 

"  Give  up  my  charge !  Never,  so  help  me  heaven !  Friend 
or  foe  shall  claim  it  but  with  my  life,"  returned  Alan,  proudly. 
"  Come  on,  sir  knight ;  I  am  here  to  defend  the  honor  thou 
hast  injured — the  honor  of  one  dearer  than  my  own." 

"  Have  then  thy  will,  proud  boy  :  thy  blood  be  on  thine  own 
head,"  replied  Seymour ;  but  ere  he  spurred  on  to  the  charge, 
he  called  aloud,  "  let  none  come  between  us,  none  dare  to  in- 
terfere— 'tis  a  quarrel  touching  none  save  ourselves,"  and  Alan 
bowed  his  head,  in  courteous  recognition  of  the  strict  observ- 
ance of  the  rules  of  chivalry  in  his  adversary,  at  the  very  mo- 
ment that  he  closed  with  him  in  deadly  strife ;  and  such  was 
war  in  the  age  of  chivalry,  and  so  strict  were  its  rules,  that 
even  with  the  standard  of  Scotland  in  his  hand,  the  person  of 
the  heir  of  Buchan  was  sacred  to  all  save  to  his  particular  op- 
ponent. 

It  was  a  brief  yet  determined  struggle.     Their  swords  cross- 


110  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

ed  and  recrossed  with  such  force  and  rapidity,  that  sparks  of 
fire  flashed  from  the  blades  ;  the  aim  of  both  appeared  rather 
to  unhorse  and  disarm  than  slay  :  Seymour,  perhaps,  from 
admiration  of  the  boy's  extraordinary  bravery  and  daring,  and 
Alan  from  a  feeling  of  respect  for  the  true  chivalry  of  the  Eng- 
lish knight.  The  rush  of  battle  for  a  minute  unavoidably  sep- 
arated them.  About  four  feet  of  the  banner-staff  yet  remained 
uninjured,  both  in  its  stout  wood  and  sharp  iron  head ;  with 
unparalleled  swiftness,  Alan  partly  furled  the  banner  round  the 
pike,  and  transferred  it  to  his  right  hand,  then  grasping  it  firmly, 
and  aiming  full  at  Sir  Henry's  helm,  backed  his  horse  several 
paces  to  allow  of  a  wider  field,  gave  his  steed  the  spur,  and 
dashed  forward  quick  as  the  wind.  The  manoeuvre  succeeded. 
Completely  unprepared  for  this  change  alike  in  weapon  and 
attack,  still  dazzled  and  slightly  confused  by  the  rush  which 
had  divided  them,  Sir  Henry  scarcely  saw  the  youthful  knight, 
till  he  felt  his  helmet  transfixed  by  the  lance,  and  the  blow 
guided  so  well  and  true,  that  irresistibly  it  bore  him  from  his 
horse,  and  he  lay  stunned  and  helpless,  but  not  otherwise  hurt, 
at  the  mercy  of  his  foe.  Recovering  his  weapon,  Alan,  aware 
that  the  great  disparity  of  numbers  rendered  the  securing  Eng- 
lish prisoners  but  a  mere  waste  of  time,  contented  himself  by 
waving  the  standard  high  in  air,  and  again  shouting  his  war- 
cry,  galloped  impetuously  on.  Wounded  he  was,  but  he  knew 
it  not ;  the  excitement,  the  inspiration  of  the  moment  was  all 
he  felt. 

"  To  the  king — to  the  king  !"  shouted  Nigel  Bruce,  urging 
his  horse  to  the  side  of  Alan,  and  ably  aiding  him  to  strike 
down  their  rapidly  increasing  foes.  "  Hemmed  in  on  all  sides, 
he  will  fall  beneath  their  thirsting  swords.  To  the  king — to 
the  king !  Yield  he  never  will ;  and  better  he  should  not. 
On,  on,  for  the  love  of  life,  of  liberty,  of  Scotland ! — on  to  the 
king !" 

His  impassioned  words  reached  even  hearts  fainting  'neath 
exhaustion,  failing  in  hope,  for  they  knew  they  strove  in  vain  ; 
yet  did  that  tone,  those  words  rouse  even  them,  and  their  flag- 
ging limbs  grew  strong  for  Robert's  sake,  and  some  yet  reached 
the  spot  to  fight  and  die  around  him  ;  others — alas  !  the  great- 
er number — fell  ere  the  envied  goal  was  gained. 

The  sight  of  the  royal  standard  drew,  as  Alan  had  hoped, 
the  attention  of  some  from  the  king,  and  gave  him  n  few  mo- 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  Ill 

ments  to  rally.  Again  there  was  a  moment  of  diversion  in  fa- 
vor of  the  Scotch.  The  brothers  of  the  Bruce  and  some  others 
of  his  bravest  knights  were  yet  around  him,  seemingly  unin- 
jured, and  each  and  all  appeared  endowed  with  the  strength  of 
two.  The  gigantic  form  of  Edward  Bruce,  the  whelming  sweep 
of  his  enormous  battle-axe,  had  cleared  a  partial  space  around 
the  king,  but  still  the  foes  hemmed  in,  reinforced  even  as  they 
fell.  About  this  time  the  moon,  riding  high  in  the  heavens, 
had  banished  the  mists  which  had  enveloped  her  rising,  and 
flung  down  a  clear,  silvery  radiance  over  the  whole  field,  dis- 
closing for  the  first  time  to  King  Robert  the  exact  situation  in 
which  he  stood.  Any  further  struggle,  and  defeat,  imprison- 
ment, death,  all  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  Scotland's  liberty 
was  lost,  and  forever.  The  agony  of  this  conviction  was  known 
to  none  save  to  the  sovereign's  own  heart,  and  to  that  Searcher 
of  all,  by  whom  its  every  throb  was  felt. 

The  wood  behind  him  was  still  plunged  in  deep  shadows, 
and  he  knew  the  Grampian  Hills,  with  all  their  inaccessible 
paths  and  mountain  fastnesses — known  only  to  the  true  chil- 
dren of  Scotland — could  easily  be  reached,  were  the  pursuit 
of  the  English  eluded,  which  he  believed  could  be  easily  ac- 
complished, were  they  once  enabled  to  retreat  into  the  wood. 

The  consummate  skill  and  prudence  of  the  Bruce  character- 
izing him  as  a  general,  even  as  his  extraordinary  daring  and 
exhaustless  courage  marked  the  warrior,  enabled  him  to  effect 
this  precarious  and  delicate  movement,  in  the  very  sight  of  and 
almost  surrounded  by  foes.  Covering  his  troops,  or  rather  the 
scattered  remnant  of  troops,  by  exposing  his  own  person  to  the 
enemy,  the  king  was  still  the  first  object  of  attack,  the  desire 
of  securing  his  person,  or,  at  least,  obtaining  possession  of  his 
head,  becoming  more  and  more  intense.  But  it  seemed  as 
though  a  protecting  angel  hovered  round  him :  for  he  had 
been  seen  in  every  part  of  the  field ;  wherever  the  struggle 
had  been  fiercest,  he  had  been  the  centre  ;  twice  he  had  been 
unhorsed,  and  bareheaded  almost  from  the  commencement  of 
the  strife,  yet  there  he  was  still,  seemingly  as  firm  in  his  sad- 
dle, as  strong  in  frame,  as  unscathed  in  limb,  as  determined  in 
purpose,  as  when  he  sent  back  his  acceptance  of  Pembroke's 
challenge.  Douglas,  Fitz-Alan,  Alexander  and  Nigel  Bruce, 
and  Alan  of  Buchan,  still  bearing  the  standard,  were  close 
around  the  king,  and  it  was  in  this  time  of  precaution,  of  less 


112  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

inspiriting  service,  that  the  young  Alan  became  conscious  that 
he  was  either  severely  wounded,  or  that  the  strength  he  had 
taxed  far  heyond  its  natural  powers  was  beginning  to  fail. 
Still  mechanically  he  grasped  tne  precious  banner,  and  still  he 
crossed  his  sword  with  every  foe  that  came ;  but  the  quick  eye 
of  Nigel  discerned  there  was  a  flagging  of  strength,  and  he 
kept  close  beside  him  to  aid  and  defend.  The  desired  goal  was 
just  attained,  the  foes  were  decreasing  in  numbers,  for  they 
were  scattered  some  distance  from  each  other,  determined  on 
scouring  the  woods  in  search  of  fugitives,  the  horses  of  the 
king  and  his  immediate  followers  were  urged  to  quicken  their 
pace,  when  an  iron-headed  quarel,  discharged  from  an  arbalist, 
struck  the  royal  charger,  which,  with  a  shrill  cry  of  death, 
dropped  instantly,  and  again  was  the  king  unhorsed.  The  de- 
lay occasioned  in  extricating  him  from  the  fallen  animal  was 
dangerous  in  the  extreme  ;  the  greater  part  of  his  men  were 
at  some  distance,  for  the  king  had  ordered  them,  as  soon  as 
the  unfrequented  hollows  of  the  wood  were  reached,  to  dis- 
perse, the  better  to  elude  their  pursuers.  Douglas,  Alexander 
Bruce,  and  Fitz-Alan  had  galloped  on,  unconscious  of  the  acci- 
dent, and  Nigel  and  Alan  were  alone  near  him.  A  minute 
sufficed  for  the  latter  to  spring  from  his  horse  and  aid  the  king 
to  mount,  and  both  entreated,  conjured  him  to  follow  their 
companions,  and  leave  them  to  cover  his  retreat.  A  while  he 
refused,  declaring  he  would  abide  with  them :  he  would  not  so 
cowardly  desert  them. 

"  Leave  you  to  death !"  he  cried ;  "  my  friends,  my  chil- 
dren; no,  no!  Urge  me  no  more.  If  I  may  not  save  my 
country,  I  may  die  for  her." 

"  Thou  shalt  not,  so  help  me  heaven !"  answered  Nigel, 
impetuously.  "  King,  friend,  brother,  there  is  yet  time.  Hence, 
I  do  beseech  thee,  hence.  Nay,  an  thou  wilt  not,  I  will  e'en 
forget  thou  art  my  king,  and  force  thee  from  this  spot." 

He  snatched  the  reins  of  his  brother's  horse,  and  urging  it 
with  his  own  to  their  fullest  speed,  took  the  most  unfrequented 
path,  and  dashing  over  every  obstacle,  through  brake  and 
briar,  and  over  hedge  and  ditch,  placed  him  in  comparative 
safety. 

And  was  Alan  deserted  ?  Did  his  brother  in  arms,  in  his 
anxiety  to  save  the  precious  person  of  his  royal  brother,  forget 
the  tie  that  bound  them,  and  leave  him  to  die  alone  ?  A  sick- 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  113 

ening  sense  of  inability,  of  utter  exhaustion,  crept  over  the  boy's 
sinking  frame,  inability  even  to  drag  his  limbs  towards  the  wood 
and  conceal  himself  from  his  foes.  Mechanically  he  at  first 
stood  grasping  the  now-tattered  colors,  as  if  his  hand  were 
nailed  unto  the  staff,  his  foot  rooted  to  the  ground.  There 
were  many  mingled  cries,  sending  their  shrill  echoes  on  the 
night  breeze ;  there  were  chargers  scouring  the  plain  ;  bodies 
of  men  passing  and  repassing  within  twenty  yards  of  the  spot 
where  he  stood,  yet  half  hidden  by  the  deep  shadow  of  a  large 
tree,  for  some  minutes  he  was  unobserved.  An  armed  knight, 
with  about  twenty  followers,  were  rushing  by ;  they  stopped, 
they  recognized  the  bannSr  ;  they  saw  the  bowed  and  drooping 
figure  who  supported  it,  they  dashed  towards  him.  With  a 
strong  effort  Alan  roused  himself  from  that  lethargy  of  faint- 
ness.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  came. 

"  Yield,  or  you  die  !"  were  the  words  borne  to  his  ear,  shrill, 
loud,  fraught  with  death,  and  his  spirit  sprang  up  with  the 
sound.  He  waved  his  sword  above  his  head,  and  threw  him- 
self into  a  posture  of  defence  ;  but  ere  they  reached  him,  there 
was  a  sudden  and  rapid  tramp  of  horse,  and  the  voice  of  Nigel 
Bruce  shouted — 

"  Mount,  mount !  God  in  heaven  be  thanked,  I  am  here  in 
time !" 

Alan  sprung  into  the  saddle ;  he  thought  not  to  inquire 
how  that  charger  had  been  found,  nor  knew  he  till  some 
weeks  after  that  Nigel  had  exposed  his  own  person  to  immi- 
nent danger,  to  secure  one  of  the  many  steeds  flying  mas- 
terless  over  the  plain.  On,  on  they  went,  and  frequently  the 
head  of  Alan  drooped  from  very  faintness  to  his  saddle-bow, 
and  Nigel  feared  to  see  him  fall  exhausted  to  the  earth,  but 
still  they  pursued  their  headlong  way.  Death  was  behind 
them,  and  the  lives  of  all  true  and  loyal  Scotsmen  were  too 
precious  to  admit  a  pause. 

The  sun  had  risen  when  King  Robert  gazed  round  him  on 
the  remnant  of  his  troops.  It  was  a  wild  brake,  amid  sur- 
rounding rocks  and  mountains  where  they  stood ;  a  torrent 
threw  itself  headlong  from  a  craggy  steep,  and  made  its  way  to 
the  glen,  tumbling  and  roaring  and  dashing  over  the  black 
stones  that  opposed  its  way.  The  dark  pine,  the  stunted  fir, 
the  weeping  birch,  and  many  another  mountain  tree,  marked 
the  natural  fertility  of  the  soil,  although  its  aspect  seemed  wild 


114  THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

and  rude.  It  was  to  this  spot  the  king  had  desired  the  fugi- 
tives to  direct  their  several  ways,  and  now  he  gazed  upon  all, 
all  that  were  spared  to  him  and  Scotland  from  that  disastrous 
night.  In  scattered  groups  they  stood  or  sate ;  their  swords 
fallen  from  their  hands,  their  heads  drooping  on  their  breasts, 
with  the  mien  of  men  -whose  last  hope  had  been  cast  on  a  sin- 
gle die,  and  wrecked  forever.  And  when  King  Robert  thought 
of  the  faithful  men  who,  when  the  sun  had  set  the  previous 
evening,  had  gathered  round  him  in  such  devoted  patriotism, 
such  faithful  love,  and  now  beheld  the  few  there  were  to  meet 
his  glance,  to  give  him  the  sympathy,  the  hope  he  needed, 
scarcely  could  he  summon  energy  sufficient  to  speak  against 
hope,  to  rally  the  failing  spirits  of  his  remaining  followers. 
Mar,  Athol,  Hay,  Fraser,  he  knew  were  prisoners,  and  he 
knew,  too,  that  in  their  cases  that  word  was  but  synonymous 
with  death.  Lennox,  his  chosen  friend,  individually  the  dear- 
est of  all  his  followers,  he  too  was  not  there,  though  none  re- 
membered his  being  taken ;  Randolph,  his  nephew,  and  about 
half  of  those  gallant  youths  who  not  ten  days  previous  had  re- 
ceived and  welcomed  the  honor  of  knighthood,  in  all  the  high 
hopes  and  buoyancy  of  youth  and  healthful  life ;  more,  many 
more  than  half  the  number  of  the  stout  yeomen,  who  had  risen 
at  his  call  to  rescue  their  land  from  chains — where  now  were 
these  ?  Was  it  wonder  that  the  king  had  sunk  upon  a  stone, 
and  bent  his  head  upon  his  hands  ?  But  speedily  he  rallied  ; 
he  addressed  each  man  by  name ;  he  spoke  comfort,  hope,  not 
lessening  the  magnitude  of  his  defeat,  but  still  promising  them 
liberty — still  promising  that  yet  would  their  homes  be  redeemed, 
their  country  free ;  aye,  even  were  he  compelled  to  wander 
months,  nay,  years  in  those  mountain  paths,  with  naught  about 
him  but  the  title  of  a  king ;  still,  while  he  had  life,  would  he 
struggle  on  for  Scotland ;  still  did  he  feel,  despite  of  blighted 
hope,  of  bitter  disappointment,  that  to  him  was  intrusted  the 
sacred  task  of  her  deliverance.  Would  he,  might  he  sink  and 
relax  in  his  efforts  and  resign  his  purpose,  because  his  first  en- 
gagement was  attended  by  defeat  ?  had  he  done  so,  it  was  easy 
to  have  found  death  on  the  field.  Had  he  listened  to  the  voice 
of  despair,  he  confessed,  he  would  not  have  left  that  field  alive. 
"But  I  lived  for  my  country,  for  ye,  her  children,"  he  con- 
tinued, his  voice  becoming  impassioned  in  its  fervor ;  "  lived  to 
redeem  this  night,  to  suffer  on  a  while,  to  be  your  savior  still. 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  115 

Will  ye  then  desert  me  ?  will  ye  despond,  because  of  one  de- 
feat— yield  to  despair,  when  Scotland  yet  calls  aloud  ?  No, 
no,  it  cannot  be !"  and  roused  by  his  earnest,  his  eloquent  ap- 
peal, that  devoted  band  sprung  from  their  drooping  posture, 
and  kneeling  at  his  feet,  renewed  their  oaths  of  allegiance  to 
him ;  the  oath  that  bound  them  to  seek  liberty  for  Scotland. 
It  was  then,  as  one  by  one  advanced,  the  king  for  the  first  time 
missed  his  brother  Nigel  and  the  heir  of  Buchan ;  amidst  the 
overwhelming  bitterness  of  thought  which  had  engrossed  him, 
he  had  for  a  brief  while  forgotten  the  precarious  situation  of 
Alan,  and  the  determination  of  Nigel  to  seek  and  save,  or  die 
with  him  ;  but  now  the  recollection  of  both  rushed  upon  him, 
and  the  flush  which  his  eloquence  had  summoned  faded  at  once, 
and  the  sudden  expression  of  anguish  passing  over  his  features 
roused  the  attention  of  all  who  stood  near  him. 

"They  must  have  fallen,"  he  murmured,  and  for  the  first 
time,  in  a  changed  and  hollow  voice.  "  My  brother,  my  brother, 
dearest,  best !  can  it  be  that,  in  thy  young  beauty,  thou,  too, 
art  taken  from  me  ? — and  Alan,  how  can  I  tell  his  mother — 
how  face  her  sorrow  for  her  son  ?" 

Time  passed,  and  there  was  no  sound ;  the  visible  anxiety  of 
the  king  hushed  into  yet  deeper  stillness  the  voices  hushed 
before.  His  meaning  was  speedily  gathered  from  his  broken 
words,  and  many  mounted  the  craggy  heights  to  mark  if  there 
might  not  yet  be  some  signs  of  the  missing  ones.  Time  seemed 
to  linger  on  his  flight.  The  intervening  rocks  and  bushes  con- 
fined all  sounds  within  a  very  narrow  space ;  but  at  length  a 
faint  unintelligible  noise  broke  on  the  stillness,  it  came  nearer, 
nearer  still,  a  moment  more  and  the  tread  of  horses'  hoofs 
echoed  amongst  the  rocks — a  shout,  a  joyful  shout  proclaimed 
them  friends.  The  king  sprung  to  his  feet.  Another  minute 
Nigel  and  Alan  pressed  around  him ;  with  the  banner  still  in 
his  hand,  Alan  knelt  and  laid  it  at  his  sovereign's  feet. 

"  From  thy  hand  I  received  it,  to  thee  I  restore  it,"  he  said, 
but  his  voice  was  scarcely  articulate ;  he  bowed  his  head  to 
press  Robert's  extended  hand  to  his  lips,  and  sunk  senseless  at 
his  feet. 


116  THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE. 


CHAPTER   XL 

RUMORS  of  the  fatal  issue  of  the  engagement  at  Methven 
speedily  reached  Scone,  laden,  of  course,  with  yet  more  dis- 
astrous tidings  than  had  foundation  in  reality.  King  Robert, 
it  was  said,  and  all  his  nobles  and  knights — nay,  his  whole 
army — were  cut  off  to  a  man ;  the  king,  if  not  taken  prisoner, 
was  left  dead  on  the  field,  and  all  Scotland  lay  again  crushed 
and  enslaved  at  the  feet  of  Edward.  For  four-and-twenty 
hours  did  the  fair  inhabitants  of  the  palace  labor  under  this 
belief,  well-nigh  stunned  beneath  the  accumulation  of  misfor- 
tune. It  was  curious  to  remark  the  different  forms  in  which 
affliction  appeared  in  different  characters.  The  queen,  in  loud 
sobs  and  repeated  wailing,  at  one  time  deplored  her  own  mise- 
ry ;  at  others,  accused  her  husband  of  rashness  and  madness. 
Why  had  he  not  taken  her  advice  and  remained  quiet  ?  Why 
could  he  not  have  been  contented  with  the  favor  of  Edward 
and  a  proud,  fair  heritage  ?  What  good  did  he  hope  to  get 
for  himself  by  assuming  the  crown  of  so  rude  and  barren  a  land 
as  Scotland  ?  Had  she  not  told  him  he  was  but  a  summer 
king,  that  the  winter  would  soon  blight  his  prospects  and  nip 
his  budding  hopes  ;  and  had  she  not  proved  herself  wiser  even 
than  he  was  himself  ?  and  then  she  would  suddenly  break  off 
in  these  reproaches  to  declare  that,  if  he  were  a  prisoner,  she 
would  go  to  him  ;  she  would  remain  with  him  to  the  last ;  she 
would  prove  how  much  she  idolized  him — her  own,  her  brave, 
her  noble  Robert.  And  vain  was  every  effort  on  the  part  of 
her  sisters-in-law  and  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  and  other  of  her 
friends,  to  mitigate  these  successive  bursts  of  sorrow.  The 
Lady  Seaton,  of  a  stronger  mind,  yet  struggled  with  despond- 
ency, yet  strove  to  hope,  to  *  believe  all  was  not  as  overwhelm- 
ing as  had  been  described ;  although,  if  rumor  were  indeed 
true,  she  had  lost  a  husband  and  a  son,  the  gallant  young  Earl 
of  Mar,  whom  she  had  trained  to  all  noble  deeds  and  honora- 
ble thoughts,  for  he  had  been  fatherless  from  infancy.  Lady 
Mary  could  forget  her  own  deep  anxieties,  her  own  fearful, fore- 
bodings, silently  and  unobservedly  to  watch,  to  follow,  to  tend 
the  Countess  of  Buchan,  whose  marble  cheek  and  lip,  and 
somewhat  sterner  expression  of  countenance  than  usual,  alone 


THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  117 

betrayed  the  anxiety  passing  within,  for  words  it  found  not. 
She  could  share  with  her  the  task  of  soothing,  of  cheering 
Agnes,  whose  young  spirit  lay  crushed  beneath  this  heavy 
blow.  She  did  not  complain,  she  did  not  murmur,  but  evi- 
dently struggled  to  emulate  her  mother's  calmness,  for  she 
would  bend  over  her  frame  and  endeavor  to  continue  her  em- 
broidery. But  those  who  watched  her,  marked  her  frequent 
shudder,  the  convulsive  sob,  the  tiny  hands  pressed  closely  to- 
gether, and  then  upon  her  eyes,  as  if  to  still  their  smarting 
throbs  ;  and  Isoline,  who  sat  in  silence  on  a  cushion  at  her  feet, 
could  catch  such  low  whispered  words  as  these — 

"  Nigel,  Nigel,  could  I  but  know  thy  fate  !  Dead,  dead  ! — 
could  I  not  die  with  thee  ?  Imprisoned,  have  I  not  a  right  to 
follow  thee ;  to  tend,  to  soothe  thee  ?  Any  thing,  oh,  any 
thing,  but  this  horrible  suspense !  Alan,  my  brother,  thou  too, 
so  young,  to  die." 

The  morning  of  tlje  second  day  brought  other  and  less  dis- 
tressing rumors ;  all  had  not  fallen,  all  were  not  taken.  There 
were  tales  of  courage,  of  daring  gallantry,  of  mighty  struggles 
almost  past  belief;  but  what  were  they,  even  in  that  era  of 
chivalry,  to  the  heart  sinking  under  apprehensions,  the  hopes 
just  springing  up  amidst  the  wild  chaos  of  thoughts  to  smile  a 
moment,  to  be  crushed  'neath  suspense,  uncertainty,  the  next  ? 
Still  the  eager  tones  of  conjecture,  the  faintest-spoken  whispers 
of  renewed  hope,  were  better  than  the  dead  stillness,  the  heavy 
hush  of  despair. 

And  the  queen's  apartments,  in  which  at  sunset  all  her 
friends  had  assembled,  presented  less  decided  sounds  of  mourn- 
ing and  of  wail,  than  the  previous  day.  Margaret  was  indeed 
still  one  minute  plunged  in  tears  and  sobs,  and  the  next  hoping 
more,  believing  more  than  any  one  around  her.  Agnes  had 
tacitly  accompanied  her  mother  and  Lady  Mary  to  the  royal 
boudoir,  but  she  had  turned  in  vei^  sickness  of  heart  from  all 
her  companions,  and  remained  standing  in  a  deep  recess  formed 
by  the  high  and  narrow  casement,  alone,  save  Isoline,  who  still 
clung  to  her  side,  pale,  motionless  as  the  marble  statue  near 
her,  whose  unconscious  repose  she  envied. 

"  Speak,  Isabella,  why  will  you  not  speak  to  me  ?"  said  the 
queen,  fretfully.  "  My  husband  bade  me  look  to  thee  for 
strength,  for  support  under  care  and  affliction  like  to  this,  yet 


118  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

thou  keepest  aloof  from  me ;  thou  hast  words  of  comfort,  ol 
cheering  for  all  save  me." 

"  Not  so,  royal  lady,  not  so,"  she  answered,  as  with  a  faint, 
scarcely  perceptible  smile,  she  advanced  to  the  side  of  her  royal 
mistress,  and  took  her  hand  in  hers.  "  I  have  spoken,  I  have 
urged,  entreated,  conjured  thee  to  droop  not ;  for  thy  husband's 
sake,  to  hope  on,  despite  the  terrible  rumors  abroad.  I  have 
besought  thee  to  seek  firmness  for  his  sake  ;  but  thou  didst  but 
tell  me,  Isabella,  Isabella,  thou  canst  not  feel  as  I  do,  he  is 
naught  to  thee  but  thy  king ;  to  me,  what  is  he  not  ?  king, 
hero,  husband — all,  my  only  all ;  and  I  have  desisted,  lady,  for 
I  deemed  my  words  offended,  my  counsel  unadvised,  and  looked 
on  but  as  cold  and  foolish." 

"  Nay,  did  I  say  all  this  to  thee  ?  Isabella,  forgive  me,  for 
indeed,  indeed,  I  knew  it  not,"  replied  Margaret,  her  previous 
fretfulness  subsiding  into  a  softened  and  less  painful  burst  of 
weeping.  "  He  is  in  truth,  my  all,  my  heart's  dearest,  best, 
and  without  him,  oh  !  what  am  I  ?  even  a  cipher,  a  reed,  use- 
less to  myself,  to  my  child,  as  to  all  others.  I  am  not  like  thee, 
Isabella — would,  would  I  were ;  I  should  be  more  worthy  of 
my  Robert's  love,  and  consequently  dearer  to  his  heart.  I  can 
be  but  a  burden  to  him  now." 

"  Hush,  hush  !  would  he  not  chide  thee  for  such  words,  my 
Margaret  ?"  returned  the  countess,  soothingly,  and  in  a  much 
lower  voice,  speaking  as  she  would  to  a  younger  sister.  "  Had 
he  not  deemed  thee  worthy,  would  he  have  made  thee  his  ? 
oh,  no,  believe  it  not ;  he  is  too  true,  too  honorable  for  such 
thought.* 

"  He  loved  me,  because  he  saw  I  loved,"  whispered  the 
queen,  perceiving  that  her  companions  had  left  her  well-nigh 
alone  with  the  countess,  and  following,  as  was  her  custom, 
every  impulse  of  her  fond  but  ill-regulated  heart.  "  I  had  not 
even  strength  to  conceal  ^iat — that  truth  which  any  other 
would  have  died  rather  than  reveal.  He  saw  it  a.nd  his  noble 
spirit  was  touched  ;  and  he  has  been  all,  all,  aye,  more  than  I 
could  have  dreamed,  to  me — so  loving  and  so  true." 

"  Then  why  fancy  thyself  a  burden,  not  a  joy  to  him,  sweet 
friend  ?"  demanded  Isabella  of  Buchan,  the  rich  accents  of  her 
voice  even  softer  and  sweeter  than  usual,  for  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  clinging  confidence  of  the  queen  it  was  impossible 
not  to  love. 


THE   i)AYS   OF  BKUCE.  119 

"  I  did  not,  I  could  not,  for  he  cherished  me  so  fondly  till 
this  sudden  rising— this  time,  when  his  desperate  enterprise  de- 
mands energy  and  firmness,  even  from  the  humblest  female, 
how  much  more  from  the  Bruce's  wife  !  and  his  manner  is  not 
changed  towards  me,  nor  his  love.  I  know  he  loves  me, 
cherishes  me,  as  he  ever  did  ;  but  he  must  pity  my  weakness, 
my  want  of  nerve  ;  when  he  compares  me  to  himself,  he  must 
look  on  me  with  almost  contempt.  For  now  it  is,  now  that 
clearer  than  ever  his  character  stands  forth  in  such  glorious 
majesty,  such  moderation,  such  a  daring  yet  self-governed  spirit, 
that  I  feel  how  utterly  unworthy  I  am  of  him,  how  little  capa- 
ble to  give  that  spirit,  that  mind  the  reflection  it 'must  demand  ; 
and  when  my  weak  fears  prevail,  my  weak  fancies  speak  only 
of  danger  and  defeat,  how  can  he  bear  with  me  ?  Must  I  not 
become,  if  I  am  not  now,  a  burden  ?" 

"  No,  dearest  Margaret,"  replied  the  countess,  instantly. 
"  The  mind  that  can  so  well  appreciate  the  virtues  of  her  hus- 
band will  never  permit  herself,  through  weakness  and  want  of 
nerve,  to  become  a  burden  to  him.  Thou  hast  but  to  struggle 
with  these  imaginary  terrors,  to  endeavor  to  encourage,  instead 
of  to  dispirit,  and  he  will  love  and  cherish  thee  even  more  than 
hadst  thou  never  been  unnerved." 

"  Let  him  but  be  restored  to  me,  and  I  will  do  all  this.  I 
will  make  myself  more  worthy  of  his  love  ;  but,  oh,  Isabella, 
while  I  speak  this,  perhaps  he  is  lost  to  me  forever ;  I  may 
never  see  his  face,  never  hear  that  tone  of  love  again  !"  and  a 
fresh  flood  of  weeping  concluded  her  words. 

"  Nay,  but  thou  wilt — I  know  thou  wilt,"  answeted  the 
countess,  cheeringly.  "  Trust  me,  sweet  friend,  though  defeat 
may  attend  him  a  while,  though  he  may  pass  through  trial  and 
suffering  ere  the  goal  be  gained,  Robert  Bruce  will  eventually 
deliver  his  country — will  be  her  king,  her  savior — will  raise 
her  in  the  scale  of  nations,  to  a  level  even  with  the  highest, 
noblest,  most  deserving.  He  is  not  lost  to  thee  ;  trial  will  but 
prove  his  worth  unto  his  countrymen  even  more  than  would 
success." 

"  And  how  knowest  thou '  these  things,  my  Isabella  ?"  de- 
manded Margaret,  looking  up  in  her  face,  with  a  half- playful, 
half- sorrowful  smile.  "  Hast  thou  the  gift  of  prophecy  ?" 

"  Prophecy  !"  repeated  the  countess,  sadly.  "  Alas  !  'tis 
but  the  character  of  Robert  which  hath  inspired  ray  brighter 


120  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

vision.  Had  I  the  gift  of  prophecy,  ray  fond  heart  would  not 
start  and  quiver  thus,  when  it  vainly  strives  to  know  the  fate  of 
my  only  son.  I,  too,  have  anxiety,  lady,  though  it  find  not 
words." 

"  Thou  hast,  thou  hast,  indeed ;  and  yet  I,  weak,  selfish  as  I 
am,  think  only  of  myself.  Stay  by  me,  Isabella ;  oh,  do  not 
leave  me,  I  am  stronger  by  thy  side." 

It  was  growing  darker  and  darker,  and  the  hopes  that,  ere 
night  fell,  new  and  more  trustworthy  intelligence  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  fugitives  would  be  received  were  becoming  fainter 
and  fainter  on  ^very  heart.  Voices  were  hushed  to  silence,  or 
spoke  only  in  whispers.  Half  an  hour  passed  thus,  when  the 
listless  suffering  on  the  lovely  face  of  Agnes  was  observed  by 
Isoline  to  change  to  an  expression  of  intense  attention. 

"  Hearest  thou  no  step  ?"  she  said,  in  a  low,  piercing  whis- 
per, and  laying  a  cold  and  trembling  hand  on  Isoline's  arm. 
"  It  is,  it  is  his — it  is  Nigel's  ;  he  has  not  fallen — he  is  spared  !" 
and  she  started  up,  a  bright  flush  on  her  cheek,  her  hands 
pressed  convulsively  on  her  heart. 

"  Nay,  Agnes,  there  is  no  sound,  'tis  but  a  fancy,"  but  even 
while  she  spoke,  a  rapid  step  was  heard  along  the  corridor,  and 
a  shadow  darkened  the  doorway — but  was  that  Nigel  ?  There 
was  no  plume,  no  proud  crest  on  his  helmet ;  its  vizor  was  still 
closely  barred,  and  a  surcoat  of  coarse  black  stuff  was  thrown 
over  his  armor,  without  any  decoration  to  display  or  betray  the 
rank  of  the  wearer.  A  faint  cry  of  alarm  broke  from  the  queen 
and  many  of  her  friends,  but  with  one  bound  Agnes  sprang  to 
the  intruder,  whose  arms  were  open  to  receive  her,  and  wildly 
uttering  "  Nigel !"  fainted  on  his  bosom. 

"  And  didst  thou  know  me  even  thus,  beloved  ?"  he  mur- 
mured, rapidly  unclasping  his  helmet  and  dashing  it  from  him, 
to  imprint  repeated  kisses  on  her  cheek.  "  Wake,  Agnes,  best 
beloved,  my  own  sweet  love  ;  what  hadst  thou  heard  that  thou 
art  thus  ?  Oh,  wake,  smile,  speak  to  me  :  'tis  thine  own  Nigel 
calls." 

And  vainly,  till  that  face  smiled  again  on  him  in  conscious- 
ness, would  the  anxious  inmates  of  that  room  have  sought  and 
received  intelligence,  had  he  not  been  followed  by  Lord  Douglas, 
Fitz-Alan,  and  others,  their  armor  and  rank  concealed  as  was 
Nigel's,  who  gave  the  required  information  as  eagerly  as  it  was 
desired. 


THE   DAYS   OF  BETJCE.  121 

"  Robert — my  king,  my  husband — where  is  he — why  is  he 
not  here  ?"  reiterated  Margaret,  vainly  seeking  to  distinguish 
his  figure  amid  the  others,  obscured  as  they  were  by  the  rapidly- 
increasing  darkness.  "  Why  is  he  not  with  ye — why  is  he  not 
here  ?" 

"  And  he  is  here,  Meg  ;  here  to  chide  thy  love  as  less  pene- 
trating, less  able  to  read  disguise  or  concealment  than  our  gentle 
Agnes  there.  Nay,  weep  not,  dearest ;  my  hopes  are  as 
strong,  my  purpose  as  unchanged,  my  trust  in  heaven  as 
fervent  as  it  was  when  I  went  forth  to  battle.  Trial  and  suffer- 
ing must  be  mine  a  while,  I  have  called  it  on  my  own  head ; 
but  still,  oh,  still  thy  Robert  shall  deliver  Scotland*— shall  cast 
aside  her  chains." 

The  deep,  manly  voice  of  the  king  acted  like  magic  on  the 
depressed  spirits  of  those  around  him ;  and  though  there  was 
grief,  bitter,  bitter  grief  to  tell,  though  many  a  heart's  last  lin- 
gering hopes  were  crushed  'neath  that  fell  certainty,  which  they 
thought  to  have  pictured  during  the  hours  of  suspense,  and 
deemed  themselves  strengthened  to  endure,  yet  still  'twas  a  grief 
that  found  vent  in  tears — grief  that  admitted  of  soothing,  of 
sympathy — grief  time  might  heal,  not  the  harrowing  agony  of 
grief  half  told — hopes  rising  to  be  crushed. 

Still  did  the  Countess  of  Buchan  cling  to  the  massive  arm  of 
the  chair  which  Margaret  had  left,  utterly  powerless,  wholly 
incapacitated  from  asking  the  question  on  which  her  veiy  life 
seemed  to  depend.  Not  even  the  insensibility  of  her  Agnes 
had  had  the  power  to  rouse  her  frorn  the  stupor  of  anxiety 
which  had  spread  over  her,  sharpening  every  faculty  and  feeling 
indeed,  but  rooting  her  to  the  spot.  Her  boy,  her  Alan,  he 
was  not  amongst  those  warriors ;  she  heard  not  the  beloved 
accents  of  his  voice ;  she.  saw  not  his  boyish  form — darkness 
could  not  deceive  her.  Disguise  would  not  prevent  him,  were 
he  amongst  his  companions,  from  seeking  her  embrace.  One 
word  would  end  that  anguish,  would  speak  the  worst,  end  jtr- 
had  he  fallen ! 

The  king  looked   round   the  group  anxiously  and  inquir- 

ingty- 

"  The  Countess  of  Buchan  ?"  he  said  ;  "  where  is  our  noble 
friend  ?  she  surely  hath  a  voice  to  welcome  her  king,  even 
though  he  return  to  her  defeated." 

"  Sirp,  I  am  here,"  she  said,  but  with  difficulty  ;  and  Robert, 
6 


122  THE  DATS   OF   BKUCE. 

as  if  he  understood  it,  could  read  all  she  was  enduring,  hastened 
towards  her,  and  took  both  her  cold  hands  in  his. 

"  I  give  thee  joy,"  he  said,  in  accents  that  reassured  her  on 
the  instant.  "  Nobly,  gallantly,  hath  thy  patriot  boy  proved 
himself  thy  son  ;  well  and  faithfully  hath  he  won  his  spurs,  and 
raised  the  honor  of  his  mother's  olden  line.  He  bade  me  greet 
thee  with  all  loving  duty,  and  say  he  did  but  regret  his  wounds 
that  they  prevented  his  attending  me,  and  throwing  himself  at 
his  mother's  feet." 

"  He  is  wounded,  then,  my  liege  ?"  Robert  felt  her  hands 
tremble  in  his  hold. 

"  It  were  cruel  to  deceive  thee,  lady— desperately  but  not 
dangerously  wounded.  On  the  honor  of  a  true  knight,  there 
is  naught  to  alarm,  though  something,  perchance,  to  regret ;  for 
he  pines  and  grieves  that  it  may  be  yet  a  while  ere  he  recover 
sufficient  strength  to  don  his  armor.  It  is  not  loss  of  blood, 
but  far  more  exhaustion,  from  the  superhuman  exertions  that 
he  made.  Edward  and  Alexander  are  with  him ;  the  one  a 
faithful  guard,  in  himself  a  host,  the  other  no  unskilful  leech  : 
trust  me,  noble  lady,  there  is  naught  to  fear." 

He  spoke,  evidently  to  give  her  time  to  recover  the  sudden 
revulsion  of  feeling  which  his  penetrating  eye  discovered  had 
nearly  overpowered  her,  and  he  succeeded ;  ere  he  ceased,  that 
quivering  of  frame  and  lip  had  passed,  and  Isabella  of  Buchan 
again  stood  calm  and  firm,  enabled  to  inquire  all  particulars  of 
her  child,  and  then  join  in  the  council  held  as  to  the  best  plan 
to  be  adopted  with  regard  to  the  safety  of  the  queen  and  her 
companions. 

In  Scone,  it  was  evident,  they  could  not  remain,  for  already 
the  towns  and  villages  around,  which  had  all  declared  for  the 
Bruce,  were  hurrying  in  the  greatest  terror  to  humble  them- 
selves before  Pembroke,  and  entreat  his  interference  in  their 
favor  with  his  sovereign.  There  was  little  hope,  even  if  Scone 
remained  faithful  to  his  interests,  that  she  would  be  enabled  to 
defend  herself  from  the  attacks  of  the  English ;  and  it  would 
be  equally  certain,  that  if  the  wife  of  Bruce,  and  the  wives 
and  daughters  of  so  many  of  his  loyal  followers  remained  within 
her  walls,  to  obtain  possession  of  their  persons  would  become 
Pembroke's  first  object.  It  remained  to  decide  whether  they 
would  accompany  their  sovereign  to  his  mountain  fastnesses, 
and  expose  themselves  to  all  the  privations  and  hardships  which 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  123 

'i 

would  inevitably  attend  a  wandering  life,  or  that  they  should 
depart  under  a  safe  escort  to  Norway,  whose  monarch  was 
friendly  to  the  interests  of  Scotland.  This  latter  scheme  the 
king  very  strongly  advised,  representing  in  vivid  colors  the 
misery  they  might  have  to  endure  if  they  adhered  to  him ; 
the  continual  danger  of  their  falling  into  the  hands  of  Edward, 
and  even  could  they  elude  this,  how  was  it  possible  their  deli- 
cate frames,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  luxury  and  repose, 
could  sustain  the  rude  fare,  the  roofless  homes,  the  continued 
wandering  amid  the  crags  and  floods  and  deserts  of  the  moun- 
tains. He  spoke  eloquently  and  feelingly,  and  there  was  a  brief 
silence  when  he  concluded.  Margaret  had  thrown  her  arms 
round  her  husband,  and  buried  her  face  on  his  bosom ;  her 
child  clung  to  her  father's  knee,  and  laid  her  soft  cheek  caress- 
ingly by  his.  Isabella  of  Buchan,  standing  a  little  aloof,  re- 
mained silent  indeed,  but  no  one  who  gazed  on  her  could  doubt 
her  determination  or  believe  she  wavered.  Agnes  was  stand- 
ing in  the  same  recess  she  had  formerly  occupied,  but  how 
different  was  the  expression  of  her  features.  The  arm  of  Nigel 
was  twined  round  her,  his  head  bent  down  to  hers  in  deep  and 
earnest  commune ;  he  was  pleading  against  his  own  will  and 
feelings  it  seemed,  and  though  he  strove  to  answer  every  argu- 
ment, to  persuade  her  it  was  far  better  she  should  seek  safety 
in  a  foreign  land,  her  determination  more  firmly  expressed  than 
could  have  been  supposed  from  her  yielding  disposition,  to 
abide  with  him,  in  weal  or  in  woe,  to  share  his  wanderings,  his 
home,  be  it  roofless  on  the  mountain,  or  within  palace  walls  ; 
that  she  was  a  Highland  girl,  accustomed  to  mountain  paths 
and  woody  glens,  nerved  to  hardship  and  toil — this  determina- 
tion, we  say,  contrary  as  it  was  to  his  eloquent  pleadings,  cer- 
tainly afforded  Nigel  no  pain,  and  might  his  beaming  features 
be  taken  as  reply,  it  was  fraught  with  unmingled  pleasure.  In 
a  much  shorter  time  than  we  have  taken  to  describe  this,  how- 
ever, the  queen  had  raised  her  head,  and  looking  up  in  her 
husband's  face  with  an  expression  of  devotedness,  which  gave 
her  countenance  a  charm  it  had  never  had  before,  fervently 
exclaimed — 

"  Robert,  come  woe  or  weal,  I  will  abide  with  thee  ;  her  hus- 
band's side  is  the  best  protection  for  a  wife ;  and  if  wandering 
and  suffering  be  his  portion,  who  will  soothe  and  cheer  as  the 
wife  of  his  love  ?  My  spirit  is  but  cowardly,  iny  will  but  weak  ; 


124  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

but  by  thee  I  may  gain  the  strength  which  in  foreign  lands 
could  never  be  my  own.  Imaginary  terrors,  fancied  horrors 
would  be  worse,  oh,  how  much  worse  than  reality !  and  when 
we  met  again  I  should  be  still  less  worthy  of  thy  love.  No, 
Robert,  no !  urge  me  not,  plead  to  me  no  more.  My  friends 
may  do  as  they  will,  but  Margaret  abides  with  thee." 

"  And  who  is  there  will  pause,  will  hesitate,  when  their 
queen  hath  spoken  thus?"  continued  the  Countess  of  Buchan, 
in  a  tone  that  to  Margaret's  ear  whispered  approval  and  en- 
couragement. "  Surely,  there  is  none  here  whose  love  for 
their  countiy  is  so  weak,  their  loyalty  to  their  sovereign  of  such 
little  worth,  that  at  the  first  defeat,  the  first  disappointment, 
they  would  fly  over  seas  for  safety,  and  contentedly  leave  the 
graves  of  their  fathers,  the  hearths  of  their  ancestors,  the  homes 
of  their  childhood  to  be  desecrated  by  the  chains  of  a  foreign 
tyrant,  by  the  footsteps  of  his  hirelings?  Oh,  do  not  let  us 
waver  !  Let  us  prove  that  though  the  arm  of  Avoman  is  weaker 
than  that  of  man,  her  spirit  is  as  firm,  her  heart  as  true ;  and 
that  privation,  and  suffering,  and  hardship  encountered  amid 
the  mountains  of  our  land,  the  natural  fastnesses  of  Scotland, 
in  company  with  our  rightful  king,  our  husbands,  our  children — 
all,  all,  aye,  death  itself,  were  preferable  to  exile  and  separation. 
Tis  woman's  part  to  gild,  to  bless,  and  make  a  home,  and  still, 
still  we  may  do  this,  though  our  ancestral  homes  be  in  the  hands 
of  Edward.  Scotland  has  still  her  sheltering  breast  for  all  her 
children  ;  and  shall  we  desert  her  now  ?" 

"  No,  no,  no  !"  echoed  from  every  side,  enthusiasm  kindling 
with  her  wo  is.  "Better  privation  and  danger  in  Scotland, 
than  safety  and  comfort  elsewhere." 

Nor  was  this  the  mere  decision  of  the  moment,  founded  on 
its  enthusiasm.  The  next  morning  found  them  equally  firm, 
equally  determined  ;  even  the  weak  and  timid  Margaret  rose  in 
that  hour  of  trial  superior  to  herself,  and  preparations  were 
rapidly  made  for  their  departure.  Nor  were  the  prelates  of 
Scotland,  who  had  remained  at  Scone  during  the  king's  engage- 
ment, backward  in  encouraging  and  blessing  their  decision. 
His  duties  prevented  the  Abbot  of  Scone  accompanying  them ; 
but  it  was  with  deep  regret  he  remained  behind,  not  from  any 
fear  of  the  English,  for  a  warrior  spirit  lurked  beneath  those 
episcopal  robes,  but  from  his  deep  reverence  for  the  enterprise, 
and  love  for  the  person  of  King  Robert.  He  acceded  to  the 


THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  125 

necessity  of  remaining  in  his  abbey  with  the  better  grace,  as  he 
fondly  hoped  to  preserve  the  citizens  in  the  good  faith  and 
loyalty  they  had  so  nobly  demonstrated.  The  Archbishop  of 
St.  Andrew's  and  the  Bishop  of  Glasgow  determined  on  follow- 
ing their  sovereign  to  the  death;  and  the  spirit  of  Robert, 
wounded  as  it  had  been,  felt  healed  and  soothed,  and  inspired 
afresh,  as  the  consciousness  of  his  power  over  some  true  and 
faithful  hearts,  of  every  grade  and  rank  of  either  sex,  became 
yet  more  strongly  proved  in  this  hour  of  depression.  He  ceased 
to  speak  of  seeking  refuge  for  his  fair  companions  in  another 
land,  their  determination  to  abide  with  him,  and  their  husbands 
and  sons,  was  too  heartfelt,  too  unwavering,  to  allow  of  a  hope 
to  change  it ;  and  he  well  knew  that  their  presence,  instead  of 
increasing  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  his  followers,  would  rather 
lessen  them,  by  shedding  a  spirit  of  chivalry  even  over  the 
weary  wanderings  he  knew  must  be  their  portion  for  a  while, 
by  gilding  with  the  light  of  happier  days  the  hours  of  darkness 
that  might  surround  them. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE  queen  and  her  companions  were  conveyed  in  detach- 
ments from  the  palace  and  town  of  Scone,  the  Bruce  believing, 
with  justice,  they  would  thus  attract  less  notice,  and  be  better 
able  to  reach  the  mountains  in  safety.  The  Countess  of  Buchan, 
her  friend  Lady  Mary,  Agnes,  and  Isoline,  attended  by  Sir 
Nigel,  were  the  first  to  depart,  for  though  she  spoke  it  not,  deep 
anxiety  was  on  the  mother's  heart  for  the  fate  of  her  boy. 
They  mostly  left  Scone  at  different  hours  of  the  night ;  and  the 
second  day  from  the  king's  arrival,  the  palace  was  untenanted, 
all  signs  of  the  gallant  court,  which  for  a  brief  space  had  shed 
such  lustre,  such  rays  of  hope  on  the  old  town,  were  gone,  and 
sorrowfully  and  dispiritedly  the  burghers  and  citizens  went  about 
their  several  occupations,  for  their  hearts  yet  throbbed  in  loyalty 
and  patriotism,  though  hope  they  deemed  was  wholly  at  an  end. 
Still  they  burned  with  indignation  at  every  intelligence  of  new 
desertions  to  Edward,  and  though  the  power  of  Pembroke  com- 
pelled them  to  bend  unwillingly  to  the  yoke,  it  was  as  a  bow 


126  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

too  tightly  strung,  which  would  snap  rather  than  use  its  strength 
in  the  cause  of  Edward. 

A  few  weeks'  good  nursing  from  his  mother  and  sister,  at- 
tended as  it  was  by  the  kindness  and  warm  friendship  of  the 
sovereign  he  adored,  and  the  constant  care  of  Nigel,  speedily 
restored  the  heir  of  Buchan,  if  not  entirely  to  his  usual  strength, 
at  least  with  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  accompany  the  royal 
wanderers  wherever  they  pitched  their  tent,  and  by  degrees  join 
in  the  adventurous  excursions  of  his  young  companions  to  supply 
them  with  provender,  for  on  success  in  hunting  entirely  depended 
their  subsistence. 

It  was  in  itself  a  strange  romance,  the  life  they  led.  Fre- 
quently the  blue  sky  was  their  only  covering,  the  purple  heath 
their  only  bed ;  nor  would  the  king  fare  better  than  his  follow- 
ers. Eagerly,  indeed,  the  young  men  ever  exerted  themselves 
to  form  tents  or  booths  of  brushwood,  branches  of  trees,  curi- 
ously and  tastefully  interwoven  with  the  wild  flowers  that  so 
luxuriantly  adorned  the  rocks,  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
faithful  companions  who  preferred  this  precarious  existence  with 
them,  to  comfort,  safety,  and  luxury  in  a  foreign  land.  Nature, 
indeed,  lavishly  supplied  them  with  beautiful  materials,  and 
where  the  will  was  good,  exertion  proved  but  a  new  enjoyment. 
Couches  and  cushions  of  the  softest  moss  formed  alike  seats 
and  places  of  repose ;  by  degrees  almost  a  village  of  these  primi- 
tive dwellings  would  start  into  being,  in  the  centre  of  some  wild 
rocks,  which  formed  natural  barriers  around  them,  watered,  per- 
haps, by  some  pleasant  brook  rippling  and  gushing  by  in  wild, 
yet  soothing  music,  gemmed  by  its  varied  flowers. 

Here  would  be  the  rendezvous  for  some  few  weeks ;  here 
would  Margaret  and  her  companions  rest  a  while  from  their 
fatiguing  wanderings ;  and  could  they  have  thought  but  of  the 
present,  they  would  have  been  completely  happy.  Here  would 
their  faithful  knights  return  laden  with  the  spoils  of  the  chase, 
or  with  some  gay  tale  of  danger  dared,  encountered,  and  con- 
quered ;  here  would  the  song  send  its  full  tone  amid  the  re- 
sponding echoes.  The  harp  and  muse  of  Nigel  gave  a  refine- 
ment and  delicacy  to  these  meetings,  marking  them,  indeed.,  the 
days  of  chivalry  and  poetry.  Even  Edward  Bruce,  tl-e  stern, 
harsh,  dark,  passioned  warrior,  even  he  felt  the  magic  of  the 
hour,  and  now  that  the  courage  of  Nigel  had  been  proved,  gave 
willing  ear,  and  would  be  among  the  first  to  bid  him  wake  his 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  127 

harp,  and  soothe  the  troubled  visions  of  the  hour ;  and  Robert, 
who  saw  so  much  of  his  own  soul  reflected  in  his  young  brother, 
mingled  as  it  was  with  yet  more  impassioned  fervor,  more  beau- 
tiful, more  endearing  qualities,  for  Nigel  had  needed  not  trial 
to  purify  his  soul,  and  mark  him  out  a  patriot,  Robert,  in  very 
truth,  loved  him,  and  often  would  share  with  him  his  midnight 
couch,  his  nightly  watchings,  that  he  might  confide  to  that  young 
heart  the  despondency,  the  hopelessness,  that  to  none  other 
might  be  spoken,  none  other  might  suspect — the  secret  fear 
that  his  crime  would  be  visited  on  his  unhappy  country,  and  he 
forbidden  to  secure  her  freedom  even  by  the  sacrifice  of  his 
life. 

"  If  it  be  so,  it  must  be  so ;  then  be  thou  her  savior,  her  de- 
liverer, my  Nigel,"  he  would  often  urge ;  "  droop  not  because 
I  may  have  departed  ;  struggle  on,  do  as  thy  soul  prompts,  and 
success  will,  nay,  must  attend  thee ;  for  thou  art  pure  and  spot- 
less, and  well  deserving  of  all  the  glory,  the  blessedness,  that 
will  attend  the  sovereign  of  our  country  freed  from  chains ; 
thou  art,  in  truth,  deserving  of  all  this,  but  I — " 

"Peace,  peace,  my  brother!"  would  be  Nigel's  answer; 
"  thou,  only  thou  shalt  deliver  our  country,  shall  be  her  free, 
her  patriot  king  !  Have  we  not  often  marked  the  glorious  sun 
struggling  with  the  black  masses  of  clouds  which  surround  and 
obscure  his  rising,  struggling,  and  in  vain,  to  penetrate  their 
murky  folds,  and  deluge  the  world  with  light,  shining  a  brief 
moment,  and  then  immersed  in  darkness,  until,  as  he  nears  the 
western  horizon,  the  heaviest  clouds  flee  before  him,  the  spot- 
less azure  spreadeth  its  beautiful  expanse,  the  brilliant  rays  dart 
on  every  side,  warming  and  cheering  the  whole  earth  with  re- 
viving beams,  and  finally  sinking  to  his  rest  in  a  flood  of  splen- 
dor, more  dazzling,  more  imposing  than  ever  attends  his  depar- 
ture when  his  dawn  hath  been  one  of  joy.  Such  is  thy  career, 
my  brother ;  such  will  be  thy  glorious  fate.  Oh,  droop  not 
even  to  me — to  thyself!  Hope  on,  strive  on,  and  thou  shalt 
succeed !" 

"  Would  I  had  thy  hopeful  spirit,  my  Nigel,  an  it  pictured 
and  believed  things  as  these !"  mournfully  would  the  Bruce 
reply,  and  clasp  the  young  warrior  to  his  heart ;  but  it  was 
only  Nigel's  ear  that  heard  these  whispers  of  despondency,  only 
Nigel's  eye  which  could  penetrate  the  inmost  folds  of  that  royal 
heart.  Not  even  to  his  wife — his  Margaret,  whose  faithfulness 


128  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

in  these  hours  of  adversity  had  drawn  her  yet  closer  to  her 
husband — did  he  breathe,  aught  save  encouragement  and  hope  ; 
and  to  his  followers  he  was  the  same  as  he  had  been  from  the 
first,  resolute,  unwavering;  triumphing  over  every  obstacle; 
cheering  the  faint-hearted;  encouraging  the  desponding;  smiling 
with  his  young  followers,  ever  on  the  alert  to  provide  amuse- 
ment for  them,  to  approve,  guide,  instruct;  gallantly  and  kind- 
ly to  smooth  the  path  for  his  female  companions,  joining  in 
every  accommodation  for  them,  even  giving  his  manual  labor 
with  the  lowest  of  his  followers,  if  his  aid  would  lessen  fatigue, 
or  more  quickly  enhance  comfort.  And  often  and  often  in  the 
little  encampment  we  have  Described,  when  night  fell,  and  war- 
rior and  dame  would  assemble,  in  various  picturesque  groups, 
on  the  grassy  mound,  the  king,  seated  in  the  midst  of  them, 
would  read  aloud,  and  divert  even  the  most  wearied  frame  and 
careworn  mind  by  the  stirring  scenes  and  chivalric  feelings  his 
MSS.  recorded.  The  talent  of  deciphering  manuscripts,  indeed 
of  reading  any  thing,  was  one  seldom  attained  or  even  sought 
for  in  the  age  of  which  we  treat ;  the  sword  and  spear  were 
alike  the  recreation  and  the  business  of  the  nobles.  Reading 
and  writing  were  in  general  confined  to  monks,  and  the  other 
clergy ;  but  Robert,  even  as  his  brother  Nigel,  possessed  both 
these  accomplishments,  although  to  the  former  their  value  never 
seemed  so  fully  known  as  in  his  wanderings.  His  readings  were 
diversified  by  rude  narratives  or  tales,  which  he  demanded  in 
return  from  his  companions,  and  many  a  hearty  laugh  would 
resound  from  the  woodland  glades,  at  the  characteristic  humor 
with  which  these  demands  were  complied  with :  the  dance,  too, 
would  diversify  these  meetings.  A  night  of  repose  might  per- 
haps succeed,  to  be  disturbed  at  its  close  by  a  cause  for  alarm, 
and  those  pleasant  resting-places  must  be  abandoned,  the  hap- 
py party  be  divided,  and  scattered  far  and  wide,  to  encounter 
fatigue,  danger,  perchance  even  death,  ere  they  met  again. 

Yet  still  they  drooped  not,  murmured  not.  No  voice  was 
ever  heard  to  wish  the  king's  advice  had  been  taken,  and  they 
had  sought  refuge  in  Norway.  Not  even  Margaret  breathed 
one  sigh,  dropped  one  tear,  in  her  husband's  presence,  although 
many  were  the  times  that  she  would  have  sunk  from  exhaustion, 
had  not  Isabella  of  Buchan  been  near  as  her  guardian  angel  to 
revive,  encourage,  infuse  a  portion  of  her  own  spirit  in  the 
weaker  heart,  which  so  confidingly  clung  to  her.  The  youngest 


THE  DATS   OF  BKUCE.  129 

and  most  timid  maiden,  the  oldest  and  most  ailing  man,  still 
maintained  the  same  patriotic  spirit  and  resolute  devotion  which 
had  upheld  them  at  first.  "  The  Bruce  and  Scotland"  were  the 
words  imprinted  on  their  souls,  endowed  with  a  power  to  awake 
the  sinking  heart,  and  rouse  the  fainting  frame. 

To  Agnes  and  Nigel,  it  was  shrewdly  suspected,  these  wan- 
derings in  the  centre  of  magnificent  nature,  their  hearts  open 
to  each  other,  revelling  in  the  scenes  around  them,  were  sea- 
sons of  unalloyed  enjoyment,  happiness  more  perfect  than  the 
state  and  restraint  of  a  court.  Precarious,  indeed,  it  was,  but 
even  in  moments  of  danger  they  were  not  parted ;  for  Nigel 
was  ever  the  escort  of  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  and  danger  by 
his  side  lost  half  its  terror  to  Agnes.  He  left  her  side  but  to 
return  to  it  covered  with  laurels,  unharmed,  uninjured,  even 
in  the  midst  of  foes ;  and  so  frequently  did  this  occur,  that 
the  fond,  confiding  spirit  of  the  young  Agnes  folded  itself 
around  the  belief  that  he  bore  a  charmed  life ;  that  evil  and 
death  could  not  injure  one  so  faultless  and  beloved.  Their  love 
grew  stronger  with  each  passing  week ;  for  nature,  beautiful 
nature,  is  surely  the  field  of  that  interchange  of  thought,  for 
that  silent  commune  of  soul  so  dear  to  those  that  love.  The 
simplest  flower,  the  gushing  brooks,  the  frowning  hills,  the  va- 
ried hues  attending  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun,  all 
were  turned  to  poetry  when  the  lips  of  Nigel  spoke  to  the  ears 
of  love.  The  mind  of  Agnes  expanded  before  these  rich  com- 
munings.  She  was  so  young,  so  guileless,  her  character  mould- 
ed itself  on  his.  She  learned  yet  more  to  comprehend,  to  ap- 
preciate the  nobility  of  his  soul,  to  cling  yet  closer  to  him,  as 
the  consciousness  of  the  rich  treasure  she  possessed  in  his  love 
became  more  and  more  unfolded  to  her  view.  The  natural  fear- 
fulness  of  her  disposition  gave  way,  and  the  firmness,  the  en- 
thusiasm of  purpose,  took  possession  of  her  heart,  secretly  and 
silently,  indeed;  for  to  all,  save  to  herself,  she  was  the  same 
gentle,  timid,  clinging  girl  that  she  had  ever  been. 

So  passed  the  summer  months  ;  but  as  winter  approached, 
and  the  prospects  of  the  king  remained  as  apparently  hope- 
less and  gloomy  as  they  were  on  his  first  taking  refuge  in  the 
mountains,  it  was  soon  pretty  evident  that  some  other  plan 
must  be  resorted  to  ;  for  strong  as  the  resolution  might  be,  the 
delicate  frames  of  his  female  companions,  already  suffering  from 
the  privations  to  which  they  had  been  exposed,  could  not  sus- 

6* 


130  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

tain  the  intense  cold  and  heavy  snows  peculiar  to  the  mountaia 
region.  Gallantly  as  the  king  had  borne  himself  in  every  en- 
counter with  the  English  and  Anglo -Scots,  sustaining  with  un- 
exampled heroism  repeated  defeats  and  blighted  hopes,  driven 
from  one  mountainous  district  by  the  fierce  opposition  of  its 
inhabitants,  from  another  by  a  cessation  of  supplies,  till  famine 
absolutely  threatened,  closely  followed  by  its  grim  attendant, 
disease,  all  his  efforts  to  collect  and  inspire  his  countrymen 
with  his  own  spirit,  his  own  hope,  were  utterly  and  entirely 
fruitless,  for  his  enemies  appeared  to  increase  around  him,  the 
autumn  found  him  as  far,  if  not  further,  from  the  successful 
termination  of  his  desires  than  he  had  been  at  first. 

All  Scotland  lay  at  the  feet  of  his  foe.  John  of  Lorn,  ma- 
ternally related  to  the  slain  Red  Comyn,  had  collected  his  forces 
to  the  number  of  a  thousand,  and  effectually  blockaded  his 
progress  through  the  district  of  Breadalbane,  to  which  he  had 
retreated  from  a  superior  body  of  English,  driving  him  to  a 
narrow  pass  in  the  mountains,  where  the  Brucc's  cavalry  had 
no  power  to  be  of  service  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  king's 
extraordinary  exertions  in  guarding  the  rear,  and  there  checking 
the  desperate  fury  of  the  assailants,  and  interrupting  their  head- 
long pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  by  a  strength,  activity,  and  prudence, 
that  in  these  days  would  seem  incredible,  the  patriots  must  have 
been  cut  off  to  a  man.  Here  it  was  that  the  family  of  Lorn 
obtained  possession  of  that  brooch  of  Bruce,  which  even  to 
this  day  is  preserved  as  a  relic,  and  lauded  as  a  triumph,  prov- 
ing how  nearly  their  redoubted  enemy  had  fallen  into  their 
hands.  Similar  struggles  had  marked  his  progress  through 
the  mountains  ever  since  the  defeat  of  Methven  ;  but  vain  was 
every  effort  of  his  foes  to  obtain  possession  of  his  person,  de- 
stroy his  energy,  and  thus  frustrate  his  purpose.  Perth,  Inver- 
ness, Argyle,  and  Aberdeen  had  alternately  been  the  scene  of 
his  wanderings.  The  middle  of  autumn  found  him  with  about 
a  hundred  followers,  amongst  whom  were  the  Countess  of 
Buchan  and  her  son,  amid  the  mountains  which  divide  Kincar- 
dine from  the  southwest  boundary  of  Aberdeen.  The  remain- 
der of  his  officers  and  men,  divided  into  small  bands,  each  with 
some  of  their  female  companions  under  their  especial  charge, 
were  scattered  over  the  different  districts,  as  better  adapted  to 
concealment  and  rest. 

It  was  that  part  of    the    year   when    day   gives   place   to 


THE   DATS   OF   BKTJCE.  131 

night  so  suddenly,  that  the  sober  calm  of  twilight  even  appears 
denied  to  us.  The  streams  rushed  by,  turbid  and  swollen  from 
the  heavy  autumnal  rains.  A  rude  wind  had  robbed  most  of 
the  trees  of  their  foliage ;  the  sere  and  withered  leaves,  indeed, 
yet  remained  on  the  boughs,  beautiful  even  in  their  decay,  but 
the  slightest  breath  would  carry  them  away  from  their  resting- 
places,  and  the  mountain  passes  were  incumbered,  and  often 
slippery  from  the  fallen  leaves.  The  mountains  looked  frown- 
ing and  bare,  the  pine  and  fir  bent  and  rocked  in  their  craggy 
cradles,  and  the  wind  moaned  through  their  dark  branches 
sadly  and  painfully.  The  sun  had,  indeed,  shone  fitfully 
through  the  day,  but  still  the  scene  was  one  of  melancholy 
desolation,  and  the  heart  of  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  bold  and 
firm  in  general,  could  not  successfully  resist  the  influence  of 
Nature's  sadness.  She  sat  comparatively  alone  ;  a  covering 
had,  indeed,  been  thrown  over  some  thick  poles,  which  inter- 
wove with  brushwood,  and  with  a  seat  and  couch  of  heather, 
which  was  still  in  flower,  formed  a  rude  tent,  and  was  destined 
for  her  repose ;  but  until  night's  dark  mantle  was  fully  unfurl- 
ed, she  had  preferred  the  natural  seat  of  a  jutting  crag,  shel- 
tered from  the  wind  by  an  overhanging  rock  and  some  spread- 
ing firs.  Her  companions  were  scattered  in  different  directions 
in  search  of  food,  as  was  their  wont.  Some  ten  or  fifteen  men 
had  been  left  with  her,  and  they  were  dispersed  about  the 
mountain  collecting  firewood,  and  a  supply  of  heath  and  moss 
for  the  night  encampment ;  within  hail,  indeed,  but  scarcely 
within  sight,  for  the  space  where  the  countess  sate  commanded 
little  more  than  protruding  crags  and  stunted  trees,  and  mount- 
ains lifting  their  dark,  bare  brows  to  the  starless  sky. 

It  was  not  fear  which  had  usurped  dominion  in  the  Lady 
Isabella's  heart,  it  Avas  that  heavy,  sluggish,  indefinable  weight 
which  sometimes  clogs  the  spirit  we  know  not  wherefore,  until 
some  event  following  quick  upon  it  forces  us,  even  against  our 
will,  to  believe  it  the  overhanging  shadow  of  the  future  which 
had  darkened  the  present.  She  was  sad,  very  sad,  yet  she 
could  not,  as  was  ever  her  custom,  bring  that  sadness  to  judg- 
ment, and  impartially  examining  and  determining  its  cause,  re- 
move it  if  possible,  or  banish  it  resolutely  from  her  thoughts. 

An  impulse  indefinable,  yet  impossible  to  be  resisted,  had 
caused  her  to  intrust  her  Agnes  to  the  care  of  Lady  Mary  and 
Nigel,  and  compelled  her  to  follow  her  son,  who  had  been  the 


132  THE   DAYS   OF   BKDCE. 

chosen  companion  of  the  king.  Rigidly,  sternly,  she  had  ques- 
tioned her  own  heart  as  to  the  motives  of  this  decision.  It  was 
nothing  new  her  accompanying  her  son,  for  she  had  invariably 
done  so ;  but  it  was  something  unusual  her  being  separated 
from  the  queen,  and  though  her  heart  told  her  that  her  motives 
were  so  upright,  so  pure,  they  could  have  borne  the  sternest 
scrutiny,  there  was  naught  which  the  most  rigid  mentor  could 
condemn,  yet  a  feeling  that  evil  would  come  of  this  was 
amongst  the  many  others  which  weighed  on  her  heart.  She 
could  not  tell  wherefore,  yet  she  wished  it  had  been  otherwise, 
wished  the  honor  of  being  selected  as  the  king's  companion  had 
fallen  on  other  than  her  son,  for  separate  herself  from  him  she 
could  not.  One  cause  of  this  despondency  might  have  been 
traced  to  the  natural  sinking  of  the  spirit  when  it  finds  itself 
alone,  with  time  for  its  own  fancies,  after  a  long  period  of  exer- 
tion, and  that  mental  excitement  which,  unseen  to  all  outward 
observers,  preys  upon  itself.  Memory  had  awakened  dreams 
and  visions  she  had  long  looked  upon  as  dead ;  it  did  but  pic- 
ture brightly,  beautifully,  joyously  what  might  have  been,  and 
disturbed  the  tranquil  sadness  which  was  usual  to  her  now ; 
disturb  it  as  with  phantasmagoria  dancing  on  the  brain,  yet  it 
was  a  struggle  hard  and  fierce  to  banish  them  again.  As  one 
sweet  fancy  sunk  another  rose,  even  as  gleams  of  moonlight  on 
the  waves  which  rise  and  fall  with  every  breeze.  Fancy  and 
reason  strove  for  dominion,  but  the  latter  conquered.  What 
could  be  now  the  past,  save  as  a  vision  of  the  night ;  the  pres- 
ent, a  stern  reality  with  all  its  duties — duties  not  alone  to  oth- 
ers, but  to  herself.  These  were  the  things  on  which  her 
thoughts  must  dwell ;  these  must  banish  all  which  might  have 
been,  and  they  did ;  and  Isabella  of  Buchan  came  through  that 
fiery  ordeal  unscathed,  uninjured  in  her  self-esteem,  conscious  • 
that  not  in  one  thought  did  she  wrong  her  husband,  in  not  one 
dream  did  she  wrong  the  gentle  heart  of  the  queen  which  so 
clung  to  her ;  in  not  the  wildest  flight  of  fancy  did  she  look  on 
Robert  as  aught  save  as  the  deliverer  of  his  country,  the  king 
of  all  true  Scottish  men. 

She  rose  up  from  that  weakness  of  suffering,  strengthened  in 
her  resolve  to  use  every  energy  in  the  queen's  service  in  sup- 
porting, encouraging,  endeavoring  so  to  work  on  her  apprecia- 
tion of  her  husband's  character,  as  to  render  her  yet  more 
worthy  of  his  love.  She  had  ever  sought  to  remain  beside  the 


THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  133 

queen,  ever  contrived  they  should  be  of  the  same  party ;  that 
her  mind  was  ever  on  the  stretch,  on  the  excitement,  could  not 
be  denied,  but  she  knew  not  how  great  its  extent  till  the  call 
for  exertion  was  comparatively  over,  and  she  found  herself,  she 
scarcely  understood  how,  the  only  female  companion  of  her 
sovereign,  the  situation  she  had  most  dreaded,  most  determined 
to  avoid.  While  engaged  in  the  performance  of  her  arduous 
task,  the  schooling  her  own  heart  and  devoting  herself  to  Rob- 
ert's wife,  virtue  seemed  to  have  had  its  own  reward,  for  a  new 
spirit  had  entwined  her  whole  being — excitement,  internal  as  it 
was,  had  given  a  glow  to  thought  and  action ;  but  in  her  pres- 
ent solitude  the  reaction  of  spirit  fell  upon  her  as  a  dull,  slug- 
gish weight  of  lead.  She  had  suffered,  too,  from  both  privation 
and  fatigue,  and  she  was  aware  her  strength  was  failing,  and 
this  perhaps  was  another  cause  of  her  depression ;  but  be  that 
as  it  may,  darkness  closed  round  her  unobserved,  and  when 
startled  by  some  sudden  sound,  she  raised  her  head  from  her 
hands,  she  could  scarcely  discern  one  object  from  another  in 
the  density  of  gloom. 

"  Surely  night  has  come  suddenly  upon  us,"  she  said,  half 
aloud  ;  "  it  is  strange  they  have  not  yet  returned,"  and  rising, 
she  was  about  seeking  the  tent  prepared  for  her,  when  a  rude 
grasp  was  laid  on  her  arm,  and  a  harsh,  unknown  voice  uttered, 
in  suppressed  accents — 

"  Not  so  fast,  fair  mistress,  not  so  fast !  My  way  does  not 
lie  in  that  direction,  and,  with  your  leave,  my  way  is  yours." 

"  How,  man !  fellow,  detain  me  at  your  peril !"  answered  the 
countess,  sternly,  permitting  no  trace  of  terror  to  falter  in  her 
voice,  although  a  drawn  sword  gleamed  by  her  side,  and  a  gi- 
gantic form  fully  armed  had  grasped  her  arm.  "  Unhand  me, 
or  I  will  summon  those  that  will  force  thee.  I  am  not  alone, 
and  bethink  thee,  insult  to  me  will  pass  not  with  impunity." 

The  man  laughed  scornfully.  "  Boldly  answered,  fair  one," 
he  said  ;  "  of  a  truth  thou  art  a  brave  one.  I  grieve  such  an 
office  should  descend  upon  me  as  the  detention  of  so  stout  a 
heart ;  yet  even  so.  In  King  Edward's  name,  you  are  my 
prisoner." 

"  Your  prisoner,  and  wherefore  ?"  demanded  the  countess 
believing  that  calmness  would  be  a  better  protection  than  an) 
symptoms  of  fear.  "  You  are  mistaken,  good  friend,  I  knew 
not  Edward  warred  with  women." 


134  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

"Prove  my  mistake,  fair  mistress,  and  I  will  crave  your 
•  pardon,"  replied  the  man.  "  We  have  certain  intelligence  that 
a  party  of  Scottish  rebels,  their  quondam  king  perhaps  among 
them,  are  hidden  in  these  mountains.  Give  us  trusty  news  of 
their  movements,  show  us  their  track,  and  Edward  will  hold 
you  in  high  favor,  and  grant  liberty  and  rich  presents  in  excuse 
of  his  servant's  too  great  vigilance.  Hearest  thou,  what  is  the 
track  of  these  rebels — what  their  movements  ?" 

"  Thou  art  a  sorry  fool,  Murdock,"  retorted  another  voice, 
ere  the  countess  could  reply,  and  hastily  glancing  around,  she 
beheld  herself  surrounded  by  armed  men ;  "  a  sorry  fool,  an 
thou  wastest  the  precious  darkness  thus.  Is  not  one  rank  rebel 
sufficient,  think  you,  to  satisfy  our  lord  ?  he  will  get  intelligc  nee 
enough  out  of  her,  be  sure.  Isabella  of  Buchan  is  not  fool 
enough  to  hold  parley  with  such  as  we,  rely  on't." 

A  suppressed  exclamation  of  exultation  answered  the  utter- 
ance of  that  name,  and  without  further  parley  the  arms  of  the 
countess  were  strongly  pinioned,  and  with  the  quickness  of 
thought  the  man  who  had  first  spoken  raised  her  in  his  arms, 
and  bore  her  through  the  thickest  brushwood  and  wildest  crags 
in  quite  the  contrary  direction  to  the  encampment ;  their  move- 
ments accelerated  by  the  fact  that,  ere  her  arms  were  confined, 
the  countess,  with  admirable  presence  of  mind,  had  raised  to 
her  lips  a  silver  whistle  attached  to  her  girdle,  and  blown  a 
shrill,  distinct  blast.  A  moment  sufficed  to  rudely  tear  it  from 
her  hand,  and  hurry  her  off  as  we  have  said  ;  and  when  that 
call  was  answered,  which  it  was  as  soon  as  the  men  scattered 
on  the  mountain  sufficiently  recognized  the  sound,  they  flung 
down  their  tools  and  sprung  to  the  side  whence  it  came,  but 
there  was  no  sign,  no  trace  of  her  they  sought ;  they  scoured 
with  lighted  torches  every  mossy  path  or  craggy  slope,  but  in 
vain ;  places  of  concealment  were  too  numerous,  the  darkness 
too  intense,  save  just  the  space  illumined  by  the  torch,  to  per- 
mit, success.  The  trampling  of  horses  announced  the  return  of 
the  king  and  his  companions,  ere  their  search  was  concluded ; 
his  bugle  summoned  the  stragglers,  and  speedily  the  loss  of  the 
countess  was  ascertained,  their  fruitless  search  narrated,  and 
anxiety  and  alarm  spread  over  the  minds  of  all.  The  agony  of 
the  youthful  Alan  surpassed  description,  even  the  efforts  of  his 
sovereign  failed  to  calm  him.  Nor  was  the  Bruce  himself  much 
less  agitated. 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  135 

"  She  did  wrong,  she  did  wrong,"  he  said,  "  to  leave  herself 
so  long  unguarded  ;  yet  who  was  there  to  commit  this  outrage  ? 
There  is  some  treachery  here,  which  we  must  sift ;  we  must 
not  leave  our  noble  countrywoman  in  the  hands  of  these  marau- 
ders. Trust  me,  Alan,  we  shall  recover  her  yet." 

But  the  night  promised  ill  for  the  fulfilment  of  this  trust. 
Many  hours  passed  in  an  utterly  fruitless  search,  and  about  one 
hour  before  midnight  a  thick  fog  increased  the  dense  gloom, 
and  even  prevented  all  assistance  from  the  torches,  for  not  ten 
yards  before  them  was  distinguishable.  Dispirited  and  disap- 
pointed, the  king  and  his  companions  threw  themselves  around 
the  watchfires,  in  gloomy  meditation,  starting  at  the  smallest 
sound,  and  determined  to  renew  their  search  with  the  first  gleam 
of  dawn ;  the  hurried  pace  of  Alan,  as  he  strode  up  and  down, 
for  he  could  not  rest,  alone  disturbing  the  stillness  all  around. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

IT  Avas  already  two  hours  after  midnight  when  a  hurried 
tread,  distinct  from  Alan's  restless  pacing,  disturbed  the  watch- 
ers, and  occasioned  many  to  raise  themselves  on  their  elbows 
and  listen. 

It  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  very  soon  a  young  lad,  recog- 
nized as  Sir  Alan's  page,  was  discerned,  springing  from  crag  to 
crag  in  breathless  haste,  and  finally  threw  himself  at  his  sove- 
reign's feet. 

"It  is  not  too  late — up,  up,  and  save  her!"  were  the  only 
words  he  had  power  to  gasp,  panting  painfully  for  the  breath 
of  which  speed  had  deprived  him.  His  hair  and  dress  were 
heavy  with  the  damp  occasioned  by  the  fog,  and  his  whole 
appearance  denoting  no  common  agitation. 

"  Where  ?"  "  How  ?"  "  What  knowest  thou  ?"  "  Speak 
out."  "  What  ailest  thee,  boy  ?"  were  the  eager  words  uttered 
at  once  by  all,  and  the  king  and  others  sprung  to  their  feet, 
while  Alan  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  and  glared 
on  him  in  silence ;  the  lad's  glance  fell  beneath  his,  and  he 
sobbed  forth — 

"  Mercy,  mercy !  my  thoughtlessness  has  done  this,  yet  I 


136  THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

guessed  not,  dreamed  not  this  ill  would  follow.  But,  oh,  do 
not  wait  for  my  tale  now ;  up,  up,  and  save  her  ere  it  be  too 
late !" 

"  And  how  may  we  trust  thee  now,  an  this  is  the  effect  of 
former  treachery  ?"  demanded  Robert,  with  a  sternness  that 
seemed  to  awe  the  terrified  boy  into  composure. 

"  I  am  not  treacherous,  sire.  No,  no  !  I  would  have  exposed 
my  throat  to  your  grace's  sword  rather  than  do  a  traitor's  deed  : 
trust  me,  oh,  trust  me,  and  follow  without  delay  !" 

"  Speak  first,  and  clearly,"  answered  Alan,  fiercely  ;  "  even 
for  my  mother's  sake  the  sacred  person  of  the  King  of  Scotland 
shall  not  be  risked  by  a  craven's  word.  Speak,  an  thou  wouldst 
bid  me  trust  thee — speak,  I  charge  thee." 

"  He  is  right — he  is  right ;  let  him  explain  this  mystery  ere 
we  follow,"  echoed  round ;  and  thus  urged,  the  boy's  tale  was 
hurriedly  told. 

It  was  simply  this.  Some  days  previous,  when  wandering 
alone  about  the  rocks,  he  had  met  a  woodman,  whom  he  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  retainers  of  Buchan,  and,  as  such,  believed 
him  as  loyal  and  faithful  to  King  Robert's  interest  as  himself 
and  others  in  the  countess's  train.  The  man  had  artfully  evaded 
all  young  Malcolm's  expression  of  astonishment  and  inquiries 
as  to  why  Donald  Mac  Alpine,  whom  he  well  knew  to  be  one 
of  the  stoutest  and  most  sturdy  men-at-arms  which  the  clan 
possessed,  should  have  taken  to  so  peaceful  an  employment  as 
cutting  wood,  and  skilfully  drew  from  the  boy  much  informa- 
tion concerning  the  movements  of  the  party  to  whom  he 
belonged.  Malcolm  freely  spoke  of  Sir  Alan  and  the  Countess 
of  Buchan,  dilating  with  no  little  pleasure  on  his  young  master 
having  received  knighthood  at  the  hand  of  his  king,  and  all  the 
honors  and  delights  which  accompanied  it.  Aware,  however, 
of  the  dangers  which  environed  the  Bruce,  he  spoke  of  him 
more  cautiously,  and  the  more  Donald  sought  to  discover  if  the 
king  were  near  at  hand,  the  more  carefully  did  Malcolm  con- 
ceal that  he  was,  telling  the  woodman  if  he  wished  to  know  all 
particulars,  he  had  better  turn  his  sickle  into  a  spear,  his  cap 
into  a  helmet,  and  strike  a  good  blow  for  Scotland  and  King- 
Robert.  This  the  man  refused  to  do,  alleging  he  loved  his  own 
sturdy  person  and  independent  freedom  too  well  to  run  his  neck 
into  such  a  noose ;  that  King  Robert  might  do  very  well  for  a 
while,  but  eventually  he  must  fall  into  King  Edward's  hands. 


THE  DAYS  OF  BKUCE.  137 

Malcolm  angrily  denied  this,  and  they  parted,  not  the  best 
friends  imaginable.  On  reviewing  all  that  had  passed,  the  boy 
reproached  himself  incessantly  for  having  said  too  much,  and 
was  continually  tormented  by  an  indefinable  fear  that  some 
evil  would  follow.  This  fear  kept  him  by  the  side  of  the  count- 
ess, instead  of,  as  was  'his  wont,  following  Sir  Alan  to  the 
chase.  The  increasing  darkness  had  concealed  her  from  him, 
but  he  was  the  first  to  distinguish  her  whistle.  He  had  reached 
the  spot  time  enough  to  recognize  the  supposed  woodman  in 
the  second  speaker,  and  to  feel  with  painful  acuteness  his  boy- 
ish thoughtlessness  had  brought  this  evil  on  a  mistress,  to  serve 
whom  he  would  willingly  have  laid  down  his  life.  Resistance 
he  knew,  on  his  part,  was  utterly  useless,  and  therefore  he 
determined  to  follow  their  track,  and  thus  bring  accurate  intel- 
ligence to  the  king.  The  minds  of  the  men  preoccupied  by 
the  thought  of  their  distinguished  prisoner,  and  the  thickening 
gloom,  aided  his  resolution.  Happening  to  have  a  quantity  of 
thick  flax  in  his  pocket,  the  boy,  with  admirable  foresight,  fast- 
ened it  to  different  shrubs  and  stones  as  he  passed,  and  thus 
secured  his  safe  return ;  a  precaution  veiy  necessary,  as  from 
the  windings  and  declivities,  and  in  parts  well-nigh  impregnable 
hollows,  into  which  he  followed  the  men,  his  return  in  time 
would  have  been  utterly  frustrated. 

The  gathering  mist  had  occasioned  a  halt,  and  a  consultation 
as  to  whether  they  could  reach  the  encampment  to  which  they 
belonged,  or  whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  halt  till  dawn. 
They  had  decided  in  favor  of  the  latter,  fearing,  did  they  con- 
tinue marching,  they  might  lose  their  track,  and  perhaps  fall 
in  with  the  foe.  He  had  waited,  he  said,  till  he  saw  them 
making  such  evident  preparations  for  a  halt  of  some  hours,  that 
he  felt  certain  they  would  not  remove  till  daylight.  It  was  a 
difficult  and  precarious  path,  he  said,  yet  he  was  quite  sure  he 
could  lead  fifteen  or  twenty  men  easily  to  the  spot,  and,  taken 
by  surprise,  nothing  would  prevent  the  recovery  of  the  count- 
ess :  less  than  two  hours  would  take  them  there. 

This  tale  was  told  in  less  time  than  we  have  taken  to  tran- 
scribe it,  and  not  twenty  minutes  after  Malcolm's  first  appear- 
ance, the  king  and  Sir  Alan,  with  fifteen  tried  followers, 
departed  on  their  expedition.  There  had  been  some  attempt 
to  dissuade  the  king  from  venturing  his  own  person  where  fur- 
ther treachery  might  yet  lurk,  but  the  attempt  was  vain. 


138  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

"  She  has  perilled  her  life  for  me,"  was  his  sole  answer, 
"  and  were  there  any  real  peril,  mine  would  be  hazarded  for 
her ;  but  there  is  none — 'tis  but  a  child's  work  we  are  about  to 
do,  not  even  glory  enough  to  call  for  envy." 

The  foo-  had  sufficiently  cleared  to  permit  of  their  distinguish- 
ing the  route  marked  out  by  Malcolm,  but  not  enough  to  betray 
their  advance,  even  had  there  been  scouts  set  to  watch  the  pass. 
Not  a  word  passed  between  them.  Rapidly,  stealthily  they 
advanced,  and  about  three  in  the  morning  stood  within  sight  of 
their  foes,  though  still  unseen  themselves.  There  was  little 
appearance  of  caution :  two  large  fires  had  been  kindled,  round 
one  of  which  ten  or  twelve  men  were  stretched  their  full  length, 
still  armed  indeed,  and  their  hands  clasping  their  unsheathed 
swords,  but  their  senses  fast  locked  in  slumber.  Near  the 
other,  her  arms  and  feet  pinioned,  Alan,  with  a  heart  beating 
almost  audibly  Avith  indignation,  recognized  his  mother.  Two 
men,  armed  with  clubs,  walked  up  and  down  beside  her,  and 
seven  others  were  grouped  in  various  attitudes  at  her  feet,  most 
of  them  fast  asleep.  It  was  evident  that  they  had  no  idea  of 
surprise,  and  that  their  only  fear  was  associated  with  the  escape 
of  their  prisoner. 

"  They  are  little  more  than  man  to  man,"  said  the  Bruce ; 
"  therefore  is  there  no  need  for  further  surprise  than  will  attend 
the  blast  of  your  bugle,  Sir  Alan.  Sound  the  reveille,  and  on 
to  the  rescue." 

He  was  obeyed,  and  the  slumberers,  with  suppressed  oaths, 
started  to  their  feet,  glancing  around  them  a  brief  minute  in 
inquiring  astonishment  as  to  whence  the  sound  came.  It  was 
speedily  explained  :  man  after  man  sprang  through  the  thicket, 
and  rushed  upon  the  foes,  several  of  whom,  gathering  them- 
selves around  their  prisoner,  seemed  determined  that  her  liberty 
should  not  be  attained  with  her  life,  more  than  once  causing 
the  swords  of  the  Bruce's  followers  to  turn  aside  in  their  rapid 
descent,  less  they  should  injure  her  they  sought  to  save.  Like 
a  young  lion  Alan  fought,  ably  seconded  by  the  king,  whose 
gigantic  efforts  clearing  his  path,  at  length  enabled  himself  and 
Alan  to  stand  uninjured  beside  the  countess,  and  thus  obtain 
possession  of  her  person,  and  guard  her  from  the  injury  to 
which  her  captors  voluntarily  exposed  her.  There  was  at  first 
no  attempt  at  flight,  although  the  Bruce's  men  carried  all 
before  them ;  the  men  fell  where  they  stood,  till  only  five  re- 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  139 

mained,  and  these,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  turned  and  fled. 
A  shrill  cry  from  Malcolm  had  turned  the  king's  and  Alan's 
attention  in  another  direction,  and  it  was  well  they  did  so. 
Determined  on  foiling  the  efforts  of  his  foes,  Donald  MacAlpine, 
who  was  supposed  to  be  among  the  fallen,  had  stealthily  ap- 
proached the  spot  where  the  countess,  overcome  with  excessive 
faintness,  still  reclined,  then  noiselessly  rising,  his  sword  was 
descending  on  her  unguarded  head,  when  Alan,  aroused  by 
Malcolm's  voice,  turned  upon  him  and  dashed  his  weapon  from 
his  grasp,  at  the  same  minute  that  the  Bruce's  sword  pierced 
the  traitor's  heart :  he  sprung  in  the  air  with  a  loud  yell  of 
agony,  and  fell,  nearly  crushing  the  countess  with  his  weight. 

It  was  the  voice  of  Alan  which  aroused  that  fainting  heart. 
It  was  in  the  bosom  of  her  son  those  tearful  eyes  were  hid, 
after  one  startled  and  bewildered  gaze  on  the  countenance  of 
her  sovereign,  Avho  had  been  leaning  over  her  in  unfeigned 
anxiety.  A  thicket  of  thorn,  mingled  with  crags,  divided  her 
from  the  unseemly  signs  of  the  late  affray ;  but  though  there 
was  naught  to  renew  alarm,  it  was  with  a  cold  shudder  she 
had  clung  to  her  son,  as  if  even  her  firm,  bold  spirit  had  given 
way.  Gently,  cheeringly  the  king  addressed  her,  and  she  evi- 
dently struggled  to  regain  composure ;  but  her  powers  of  body 
were  evidently  so  prostrated,  that  her  friends  felt  rest  of  some 
kind  she  must  have,  ere  she  could  regain  sufficient  strength  to 
accompany  them  on  their  wanderings.  She  had  received  three 
or  four  wounds  in  the  m&lee,  which  though  slight,  the  loss  of 
blood  that  had  followed  materially  increased  her  weakness,  and 
the  king  anxiously  summoned  his  friends  around  him  to  delib- 
erate on  the  best  measures  to  pursue.' 

Amongst  them  were  two  of  Sir  Alan's  retainers,  old  and 
faithful  Scottish  men,  coeval  with  his  grandfather,  the  late 
Earl  of  Buchan.  Devoted  alike  to  the  countess,  the  king,  and 
their  country,  they  eagerly  listened  to  all  that  was  passing,  de- 
claring that  rather  than  leave  the  Lady  Isabella  in  a  situation 
of  such  danger  as  the  present,  they  would  take  it  by  turns  to 
carry  her  in  their  arms  to  the  encampment.  The  king  listened 
with  a  benevolent  smile. 

"  Is  there  no  hut  or  house,  or  hunting-lodge  to  which  we 
could  convey  your  lady,"  he  asked,  "  where  she  might  find 
quieter  shelter  and  greater  rest  than  hitherto  ?  An  ye  knew 
of  such,  it  would  be  the  wiser  plan  to  seek  it  at  break  of  day." 


140  THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

A  hunting-lodge,  belonging  to  the  Earls  of  Buchan,  there 
was,  or  ought  to  be,  the  old  men  said,  near  the  head  of  the 
Tay,  just  at  the  entrance  of  Athol  Forest.  It  had  not  been 
used  since  their  old  master's  days ;  he  had  been  very  partial 
to  it  when  a  boy,  and  was  continually  there  ;  it  had  most  likely 
fallen  into  decay  from  disuse,  as  they  believed  the  present  earl 
did  not  even  know  of  its  existence,  but  that  was  all  the  better, 
as  it  would  be  a  stil^  more  safe  and  secure  retreat  for  the 
countess,  and  they  were  sure,  when  once  out  of  the  hollows  and 
intricacies  of  their  present  halting-place,  they  could  easily  dis- 
cover the  path  to  it. 

And  how  long  did  they  think  it  would  be,  the  king  in- 
quired, before  their  lady  could  be  taken  to  it  ?  the  sooner, 
they  must  perceive  as  well  as  himself,  the  better  for  her  com- 
fort. He  was  relieved  when  they  declared  that  two  days,  or  at 
the  very  utmost  three,  would  bring  them  there,  if,  as  the  old 
men  earnestly  entreated  he  would,  they  retraced  their  steps  to 
the  encampment  as  soon  as  daylight  was  sufficiently  strong  for 
them  clearly  to  distinguish  their  path.  This  was  unanimously 
resolved  on,  and  the  few  intervening  hours  were  spent  by  the 
countess  in  calm  repose. 

Conscious  that  filial  affection  watched  over  her,  the  sleep  of 
the  countess  tranquillized  her  sufficiently  to  commence  the  re- 
turn to  the  encampment  with  less  painful  evidences  of  exhaus- 
tion. A  rude  litter  waited  for  her,  in  which  she  could  recline 
when  the  pass  allowed  its  safe  passage,  and  which  could  be 
easily  borne  by  the  bearers  when  the  intricacies  of  the  path 
prevented  all  egress  save  by  pedestrianism.  It  had  been  hur- 
riedly made  by  her  devoted  adherents,  and  soothed  and  grati- 
fied, her  usual  energy  seemed  for  the  moment  to  return.  By 
nine  o'clock  forenoon  all  traces  of  the  Bruce  and  his  party  had 
departed  from  the  glen,  the  last  gleam  of  their  armor  was  lost 
in  the  winding  path,  and  then  it  was  that  a  man,  who  had  lain 
concealed  in  a  thicket  from  the  moment  of  the  affray,  hearing 
all  that  had  passed,  unseen  himself,  now  slowly,  cautiously 
raised  himself  on  his  knees,  gazed  carefully  round  him,  then 
with  a  quicker  but  as  silent  motion  sprung  to  his  feet,  and 
raised  his  hands  in  an  action  of  triumph. 

"  He  is  amongst  them,  then,"  he  muttered,  "  the  traitor 
Bruce  himself.  This  is  well.  The  countess,  her  son,  and 
the  would-be  king — .ha !  ha  !  My  fortune's  made  !"  and  he 


TIIE   DATS   OF  BKt'CE.  141 

bounded  away  in  quite  a  contrary  direction  to  that  taken  by 
the  Bruce. 

The  old  retainers  of  Buchan  were  correct  in  their  surmises. 
The  evening  of  the  second  day  succeeding  the  event  we  have 
narrated  brought  them  to  the  hunting-lodge.  It  was  indeed 
very  old,  and  parts  had  fallen  almost  to  ruins,  but  there  were 
still  three  or  four  rooms  remaining,  whose  compact  walls  and 
well-closed  roofs  rendered  them  a  warm  and  welcome  refuge 
for  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  whose  strenuous  exertions  the  two 
preceding  days  had  ended,  as  was  expected,  by  exhaustion 
more  painful  and  overpowering  than  before. 

The  exertions  of  her  friends — for  the  Bruce  and  his  follow- 
ers with  one  consent  had  permitted  their  wanderings  to  be 
guided  by  the  old  men — speedily  rendered  the  apartments  hab- 
itable. Large  fires  were  soon  blazing  on  the  spacious  hearths, 
and  ere  night  fell,  all  appearance  of  damp  and  discomfort  had 
vanished.  The  frugal  supper  was  that  night  a  jovial  meal ; 
the  very  look  of  a  cheerful  blaze  beneath  a  walled  roof  was  re- 
viving to  the  wanderers ;  the  jest  passed  round,  the  wine-cup 
sparkled  to  the  health  of  the  countess,  and  many  a  fervent  as- 
piration echoed  round  for  the  speedy  restoration  of  her  strength  ; 
for  truly  she  was  the  beloved,  the  venerated  of  all,  alike  from 
her  sovereign  to  his  lowest  follower. 

"  Trust  my  experience,  my  young  knight,"  had  been  the 
Bruce's  address  to  Alan  ere  they  parted  for  the  night.  "  A 
few  days'  complete  repose  will  quite  restore  your  valued  parent 
and  my  most  honored  friend.  This  hunting-lodge  shall  be  our 
place  of  rendezvous  for  a  time,  till  she  is  sufficiently  restored 
to  accompany  us  southward.  You  are  satisfied,  are  you  not, 
with  the  diligence  of  our  scouts  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  your  highness,"  was  Alan's  reply  ;  for  well-tried 
and  intelligent  men  had  been  sent  in  every  direction  to  discover, 
if  possible,  to  what  party  of  the  enemy  the  captors  of  the  Lady 
Isabella  belonged,  and  to  note  well  the  movements  and  ap- 
pearance, not  only  of  any  martial  force,  but  of  the  country 
people  themselves.  They  had  executed  their  mission  as  well 
as  the  intricate  passes -and  concealed  hollows  of  the  mountains 
permitted,  and  brought  back  the  welcome  intelligence,  that  for 
miles  round  the  country  was  perfectly  clear,  and  to  all  appear- 
ance peaceful.  The  hunting-lodge,  too,  was  so  completely 
hidden  by  dark  woods  of  pine  and  overhanging  crags,  that 


142  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

even  had  there  been  foes  prowling  about  the  mountains,  they 
might  pass  within  twenty  yards  of  its  vicinity  and  yet  fail  to 
discover  it.  The  very  path  leading  to  the  bottom  of  the  hol- 
low in  which  it  stood  was  concealed  at  the  entrance  by  thick 
shrubs  and  an  arch  of  rock,  which  had  either  fallen  naturally 
into  that  shape,  or  been  formed  by  the  architects  of  the  lodge. 
It  seemed  barely  possible  that  the  retreat  could  be  discovered, 
except  by  the  basest  treachery,  and  therefore  the  king  and  Sir 
Alan  felt  perfectly  at  rest  regarding  the  safety  of  the  countess, 
even  though  they  could  only  leave  with  her  a  guard  of  some 
twenty  or  thirty  men. 

So  much  was  she  refreshed  the  following  morning,  that  the 
hopes  of  her  son  brightened,  and  with  that  filial  devotion  so 
peculiarly  his  characteristic,  he  easily  obtained  leave  of  absence 
from  his  sovereign,  to  remain  by  the  couch  of  his  mother  for 
at  least  that  day,  instead  of  accompanying  him,  as  was  his 
wont,  in  the  expeditions  of  the  day.  The  countess  combated 
this  decision,  but  in  vain.  Alan  was  resolved.  He  was  con- 
vinced, he  said,  her  former  capture,  and  all  its  ill  consequences, 
would  not  have  taken  place  had  he  been  by  her  side  ;  and  even 
were  she  not  now  exposed  to  such  indignity,  she  would  be 
lonely  and  sad  without  him,  and  stay,  in  consequence,  he 
would.  The  king  and  his  officers  approved  of  the  youth's  res- 
olution, and  reluctantly  Isabella  yielded. 

About  two  hours  before  noon  the  Bruce  and  his  companions 
departed,  desiring  Sir  Alan  not  to  expect  their  return  till  near 
midnight,  as  they  intended  penetrating  a  part  of  the  country 
which  had  not  yet  been  explored  ;  they  might  be  a  few  hours 
sooner,  but  they  scarcely  expected  it.  It  was  afterwards  re- 
membered that  a  peculiar  expression  of  sadness  overclouded 
the  countenance  of  the  countess,  as  for  a  moment  she  fixed  her 
speaking  eyes  on  the  king's  face  when  he  cheerfully  bade  her 
farewell,  and  said,  in  a  low  emphatic  voice — 

"  Farewell,  sire  !  It  may  be  the  hour  of  meeting  is  longer 
deferred  than  we  either  of  us  now  believe.  Fain  would  I  be- 
seech your  grace  to  grant  me  one  boon,  make  me  but  one  prom- 
ise ere  you  depart." 

"  Any  boon,  any  promise  that  our  faithful  friend  and  sub- 
ject can  demand,  is  granted  ere  'tis  asked,"  answered  the  king, 
without  a  moment's  pause,  though  startled  alike  at  the  expres- 
sion of  her  features  and  t]ie  sadness  of  her  voice.  "  Gladly 


THE  DATS   OF  BEUCE.  143 

would  we  give  any  pledge  that  could  in  any  way  bespeak  our 
warm  sense  of  thy  true  merit,  lady,  therefore  speak,  and  fear 
not." 

"  'Tis  simply  this,  sire,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  still 
mournful,  despite  her  every  effort  to  prevent  its  being  so. 
"  Should  unforeseen  evil  befall  me,  captivity,  danger  of  death, 
or  aught  undreamed  of  now,  give  me  your  royal  word  as  a 
knight  and  king,  that  you  will  not  peril  your  sacred  person, 
and  with  it  the  weal  and  liberty  of  our  unhappy  country,  for 
my  sake,  but  leave  me  to  my  fate ;  'tis  a  strange  and  fanciful 
boon,  yet,  gracious  sovereign,  refuse  it  not.  I  mean  not  treach- 
ery such  as  we  have  encountered,  where  your  grace's  noble 
gallantry  rescued  me  witli  little  peril  to  yourself.  No  ;  I  mean 
other  and  greater  danger ;  where  I  well  know  that  rather  than 
leave  me  exposed  to  the  wrath  of  my  husband  and  Edward  of 
England,  you  would  risk  your  own  precious  life,  and  with  it 
the  liberty  of  Scotland.  Grant  me  this  boon,  my  liege,  and 
perchance  this  heavy  weight  upon  my  spirit  will  pass  and 
leave  me  free." 

"  Nay,  'tis  such  a  strange  and  unknightly  promise,  lady, 
how  may  I  pledge  my  word  to  its  fulfilment  ?"  answered  Rob- 
ert, gravely  and  sadly.  "  You  bid  me  pledge  mine  honor  to  a 
deed  that  will  stain  my  name  with  an  everlasting  infamy,  that 
even  the  liberty  of  Scotland  will  not  wash  away.  How  may  I 
do  this  thing  ?  You  press  me  sorely,  lady.  Even  for  thee, 
good  and  faithful  as  thou  art,  how  may  I  hurt  my  knightly 
fame  ?" 

"  Sire,  thou  wilt  not,"  she  returned,  still  more  entreatingly  ; 
"  thy  brilliant  fame,  thy  noble  name,  will  never — can  never,  re- 
ceive a  stain.  I  do  but  ask  a  promise  whose  fulfilment  may 
never  be  demanded.  I  do  but  bid  thee  remember  thou  art  not 
only  a  knight,  a  noble,  a  king,  but  one  by  whom  the  preserva- 
tion, the  independence  of  our  country  can  alone  be  achieved — 
one  on  whose  safety  and  freedom  depends  the  welfare  of  n  na- 
tion, the  unchained  glory  of  her  sons.  Were  death  thy  por- 
tion, Scotland  lies  a  slave  forever  at  the  feet  of  England,  and 
therefore  is  it  I  do  beseech  thee,  King  of  Scotland,  make  me 
this  pledge.  I  know  thy  noble  spirit  well,  and  I  know  thy  too 
chivalric  honor  would  blind  thee  to  a  sense  of  danger,  to  a 
sense  of  country,  duty,  glory,  of  all  save  the  rescue  of  one  who, 
though  she  be  faithful  to  thee  and  to  her  country,  is  but  as  a 


144:  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

drop  of  water  in  the  ocean,  compared  to  other  claims.  My 
liege,  thy  word  is  already  in  part  pledged," -she  continued, 
more  proudly.  "  Any  pledge  or  promise  I  might  demand  is 
granted  ere  it  is  asked,  your  highness  deigned  to  say  ;  thou 
canst  not  retract  it  now." 

"  And  wherefore  shouldst  thou,  royal  brother  ?"  cheeringly 
interrupted  Alexander  Bruce.  "  The  Lady  Isabella  asks  not 
unreasonably ;  she  does  but  suggest  what  may  be,  although 
that  may  be  is,  as  we  all  know,  next  to  impossible,  particularly 
now  when  nature  has  fortified  this  pleasant  lodge  even  as  would 
a  garrison  of  some  hundred  men.  Come,  be  not  so  churlish  in 
thy  favors,  good  my  liege  ;  give  her  the  pledge  she  demands, 
and  be  sure  its  fulfilment  will  never  be  required." 

"  Could  I  but  think  so,"  he  replied,  still  gravely.  "  Lady,  I 
do  entreat  thee,  tell  me  wherefore  thou  demandest  this  strange 
boon ;  fearest  thou  evil — dreamest  thou  aught  of  danger  hover- 
ing near  ?  If  so,  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  I  will  not  go 
forth  to-day!" 

"Pardon  me,  gracious  sovereign,"  answered  Isabella,  eva- 
sively ;  "  I  ask  it,  because  since  the  late  adventure  there  has 
been  a  weight  upon  my  spirit  as  if  I,  impotent,  of  little  conse- 
quence as  I  am,  yet  even  I  might  be  the  means  of  hurling 
down  evil  on  thy  head,  and  through  thee  on  Scotland  ;  and, 
therefore,  until  thy  promise  to  the  effect  I  have  specified  is 
given,  I  cannot,  I  will  not  rest — even  though,  as  Lord  Alex- 
ander justly  believes,  its  fulfilment  will  never  be  required. 
Evil  here,  my  liege,  trust  me,  cannot  be ;  therefore  go  forth 
in  confidence.  I  fear  not  to  await  your  return,  e'en  should  I 
linger  here  alone.  Grant  but  my  boon." 

"  Nay,  an  it  must  be,  lady,  I  promise  all  thou  demandest," 
answered  Bruce,  more  cheerfully,  for  her  words  reassured  him  ; 
"  but,  by  mine  honor,  thou  hast  asked  neither  well  nor  kindly. 
Remember,  my  pledge  is  passed  but  for  real  danger,  and  that 
only  for  Scotland's  sake,  not  for  mine  own  ;  and  now  farewell, 
lady.  I  trust,  ere  we  meet  again,  these  depressing  fancies  will 
have  left  thee." 

"  They  have  well-nigh  departed  now,  my  liege ;  'twas 
simply  for  thee  and  Scotland  these  heavy  bodings  oppressed 
me.  My  son,"  she  added,  after  a  brief  pause,  "  I  would  your 
highness  could  prevail  on  him  to  accompany  you  to-day. 
Wherefore  should  he  stay  with  me  ?" 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  145 

"  Wherefore  not  rather,  lady  ?"  replied  the  king,  smiling. 
"  I  may  not  leave  thee  to  thine  own  thoughts  to  weave  fresh 
boons  like  to  the  last.  No,  no  !  our  young  knight  must  guard 
thee  till  we  meet  again,"  and  with  these  words  he  departed. 
They  did  not,  however,  deter  the  countess  from  resuming  her 
persuasions  to  Alan  to  accompany  his  sovereign,  but  without 
success.  Isabella  of  Buchan  had,  however,  in  this  instance  de- 
parted from  her  usual  strict  adherence  to  the  truth  ;  she  did 
not  feel  so  secure  that  no  evil  would  befall  her  in  the  absence 
of  the  Bruce,  as  she  had  endeavored  to  make  him  believe. 

Some  words  she  had  caught  during  her  brief  captivity  caused 
her,  she  scarcely  knew  why,  to  believe  that  the  Earl  of  Buchan 
himself  was  in  the  neighborhood  ;  nay,  that  the  very  party 
which  had  captured  her  were  members  of  the  army  under  his 
command.  She  had  gathered,  too,  that  it  was  a  very  much 
larger  force  than  the  king's,  and  therefore  it  was  that  she  had 
made  no  objection  to  Robert's  wish  that  she  should  rest  some 
few  days  in  the  hunting-lodge.  She  knew  that,  however  her 
failing  strength  might  detain  and  harass  their  movements, 
Bruce  and  his  followers  would  never  consent  to  leave  her,  un- 
less, as  in  the  present  case,  under  a  comparatively  comfortable 
roof  and  well- concealed  shelter ;  and  she  knew,  too,  that  how- 
ever she  might  struggle  to  accompany  them  in  their  wander- 
ings, the  struggle  in  her  present  exhausted  state  would  be  ut- 
terly in  vain,  and  lingering  for  her  might  expose  her  sovereign 
to  a  renewal  of  the  ills  with  which  he  had  already  striven  so 
nobly,  and  perchance  to  yet  more  irreparable  misfortune.  The 
information  of  the  scouts  had  partially  reassued  her,  at  least  to 
the  fact  that  no  immediate  danger  was  to  be  apprehended,  and 
for  a  while  she  indulged  the  hope  that  safety  might  be  found 
in  this  hidden  spot  until  the  peril  passed.  She  had  full  confi- 
dence in  the  fidelity  of  the  old  retainers  Avho  had  guided  them 
to  the  spot,  and  sought  to  feel  satisfied  that  its  vicinity  was 
unknown  to  the  earl,  her  husband ;  but,  whether  from  the  rest- 
lessness of  a  slight  degree  of  fever,  or  from  that  nervous  state 
of  mind  attendant  on  worn-out  strength,  ere  the  Bruce  departed 
the  same  foreboding  came  on  her  again,  and  all  her  desire  was 
the  absence  of  her  sovereign  and  his  followers,  to  have  some 
hold  upon  his  almost  too  exalted  sense  of  chivalry,  which  would 
prevent  any  rash  act  of  daring  on  his  part ;  and  this,  as  we 
have  seen,  she  obtained. 

7 


146  THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

Could  she  but  have  prevailed  on  her  son  to  accompany  them, 
she  would  calmly  and  resignedly  have  awaited  her  fate,  what- 
ever it  might  be  ;  but  the  horror  of  beholding  him  a  prisoner 
in  the  hands  of  his  father — that  father  perhaps  so  enraged  at 
the  boy's  daring  opposition  to  his  will  and  political  opinions, 
that  he  would  give  him  up  at  once  to  the  wrath  of  Edward — 
was  a  picture  of  anguish  from  which  her  mind  revolted  in  such 
intense  suffering,  she  could  not  rest.  She  strove  with  the 
fancy ;  she  sought  to  rouse  every  energy,  to  feel  secure  in  her 
present  resting-place.  But  who  can  resist  the  influence  of 
feelings  such  as  these  ?  What  mother's  heart  cannot  enter 
into  the  emotions  of  Isabella  of  Buchan,  as  she  gazed  on  her 
noble  boy,  improved  as  he  was  in  manliness  and  beauty,  and 
with  the  dread  anticipation  of  evil,  believing  only  absence  could 
protect  him ;  that  perchance  the  very  love  which  kept  him  by 
her  side  would  expose  him  to  danger,  imprisonment,  and  death  ? 
She  did  not  speak  her  fears,  but  Alan  vainly  sought  to  soothe 
that  unwonted  restlessness.  'She  had  endeavored  to  secure 
the  Bruce's  safety  by  the  aid  of  Malcolm,  the  young  page,  by 
whose  instrumentality  she  had  been  both  captured  and  re- 
leased. Taking  advantage  of  Sir  Alan's  absence,  she  had 
called  the  boy  to  her  side,  and  made  him  promise  that,  at  the 
first  manifest  sign  of  danger,  he  would  make  his  escape,  which, 
by  his  extreme  agility  and  address,  would  easily  be  achieved, 
seek  the  king,  and  give  him  exact  information  of  the  numbers, 
strength,  and  situation  of  the  foes,  reminding  him,  at  the  same 
time,  of  his  solemn  pledge.  She  made  him  promise  the  pro- 
foundest  secrecy,  and  adjured  him  at  all  hazards  to  save  the 
king. 

The  boy,  affected  by  the  solemnity  of  her  manner,  promised 
faithfully  to  observe  her  minutest  sign,  and  on  the  re-entrance 
of  Sir  Alan  departed,  to  marvel  wherefore  his  lady  should  so 
have  spoken,  and  examine  the  localities  around,  as  to  the  best 
means  of  concealment  and  escape. 

The  hours  waned,  and  night  fell,  as  is  usual  in  October,  some 
five  hours  after  noon,  the  gloom  perhaps  greatly -increased  by 
the  deep  shades  in  which  their  place  of  concealment  lay.  Sir 
Alan  roused  the  fire  to  a  cheerful  blaze,  and  lighting  a  torch  of 
pine-wood,  placed  it  in  an  iron  bracket  projecting  from  the  wall, 
and  amused  himself  by  polishing  his  arms,  and  talking  in  that 
joyous  tone  his  mother  so  loved,  on  every  subject  that  his 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  147 

affection  fancied  might  interest  and  amuse  her.  He  was  wholly 
unarmed,  except  his  sword,  which,  secured  to  his  waist  by  a 
crimson  cash,  he  never  laid  aside  ;  and  fair  and  graceful  to  his 
mother's  eye  did  he  look  in  his  simple  doublet  of  Lincoln-green, 
cut  and  slashed  with  ruby  velvet,  his  dark  curls  clustering  round 
his  bare  throat,  and  his  bright  face  beaming  in  all  the  animation 
of  youth  and  health,  spiritualized  by  the  deeper  feelings  of  his 
soul ;  and  she,  too,  was  still  beautiful,  though  her  frame  was 
slighter,  her  features  more  attenuated  than  when  we  first  beheld 
her.  He  had  insisted  on  her  reclining  on  the  couch,  and  drawn 
from  her  otherwise  painful  thoughts  by  his  animated  sallies, 
smiles  circled  her  pale  lip,  and  her  sorrows  were  a  while  for- 
gotten. 

An  hour,  perhaps  rather  more,  elapsed,  and  found  the  mother 
and  son  still  as  we  have  described.  There  had  been  no  sound 
without,  but  about  that  period  many  heavy  footsteps  might 
have  been  distinguished,  cautiously,  it  seemed,  advancing. 
Alan  started  up  and  listened  ;  the  impatient  neigh  of  a  charger 
was  heard,  and  then  voices  suppressed,  "yet,  as  he  fancied, 
familiar. 

"  King  Robert  returned  already  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  they  must 
have  had  an  unusually  successful  chase.  I  must  e'en  seek  them 
and  inquire." 

"  Alan !  my  child !"  He  started  at  the  voice,  it  was  so  un- 
like his  mother's.  She  had  risen  and  flung  her  arm  around 
him  with  a  pressure  so  convulsive,  he  looked  at  her  with  terror. 
There  was  no  time  to  answer  ;  a  sudden  noise  usurped  the  place 
of  the  previous  stillness — a  struggle — a  heavy  fall ;  the  door 
was  flung  rudely  open,  and  an  armed  man  stood  upon  the 
threshold,  his  vizor  up,  but  even  had  it  not  been,  the  heart  of 
the  countess  too  truly  told  her  she  gazed  upon  her  husband ! 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

A  BRIEF  pause  followed  the  entrance  of  this  unexpected 
visitor.  Standing  upon  the  threshold,  his  dark  brow  knit,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  his  prisoners,  the  Earl  of  Buchan  stood  a  few 
minutes  immovable.  Alan  saw  but  a  mail-clad  warrior,  more 


148  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

fierce  and  brutal  in  appearance  than  the  generality  of  their  foes, 
and  felt,  with  all  that  heart-sinking  despondency  natural  to 
youth,  that  they  were  betrayed,  that  resistance  Avas  in  vain,  for 
heavier  and  louder  grew  the  tramp  of  horse  and  man,  and  the 
narrow  passage,  discernible  through  the  open  door,  was  filled 
with  steel-clad  forms,  their  drawn  swords  glancing  in  the  torch- 
light, their  dark  brows  gleaming  in  ill-concealed  triumph.  Alan 
was  still  a  boy  in  years,  despite  his  experience  as  a  warrior,  and 
in  the  first  agony  of  this  discovery,  the  first  dream  of  chains 
and  captivity,  when  his  young  spirit  revelled  in  the  thought  of 
freedom,  and  joyed  as  a  bird  in  the  fresh  air  of  mount  and 
stream,  weaving  bright  hopes,  not  exile  or  wandering  could  re- 
move, his  impulse  had  been  to  dash  his  useless  sword  in  anguish 
to  the  earth,  and  weep  ;  but  the  sight  of  his  mother  checked 
that  internal  weakness.  He  felt  her  convulsive  clasp ;  he  be- 
held the  expression  on  her  features, — how  unlike  their  wont — 
terror,  suffering,  whose  entire  cause  he  vainly  endeavored  to 
define,  and  he  roused  himself  for  her.  And  she,  did  she  see 
more  than  her  son  ?  She  knew  that  face,  and  as  she  gazed,  she 
felt  hope  had  departed  ;  she  beheld  naught  but  a  long,  endless 
vista  of  anguish  ;  yet  she  felt  not  for  herself,  she  thought  but 
of  her  child.  And  the. earl,  can  we  define  his  exulting  mood  ? — 
it  was  the  malice,  the  triumph  of  a  fiend. 

"  Who  and  what  art  thou  ?"  demanded  Alan,  fiercely,  lay- 
ing his  right  hand  on  his  sword,  and  with  the  left  firmly  clasp- 
ing his  mother's  waist.  "  What  bold  knight  and  honorable 
chevalier  art  thou,  thus  seeking  by  stealth  the  retreat  of  a 
wanderer,  and  overpowering  by  numbers  and  treachery  men, 
who  on  the  field  thou  and  such  as  thou  had  never  dared  to 
meet  ?" 

The  earl  laughed  ;  that  bitter,  biting  laugh  of  contempt  and 
triumph  so  difficult  to  bear. 

"  Thou  hast  a  worthy  tongue,  my  pretty  springald,"  said  he  ; 
"  canst  thou  use  thy  sword  as  bravely  ?  Who  and  what  am  I  ? 
ask  of  the  lady  thou  hast  so  caressingly  encircled  with  thine 
arm,  perchance  she  can  give  thee  information." 

Alan  started,  a  cold  thrill  passed  through  his  frame,  as  the 
real  cause  of  his  mother's  terror  flashed  on  his  mind  ;  her  lips, 
parched  and  quivering,  parted  as  to  speak,  but  there  was  no 
souod. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  mother,  speak  to  thy  son.     Why,  why 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCK.  149 

art  thou  thus  ?  it  is  not  the  dread  of  imprisonment,  of  death. 
No,  no ;  they  have  no  terrors  for  such  as  thee.  Who  is  this 
man  ?" 

Engrossed  in  his  own  agitation,  Alan  had  not  heard  the 
muttered  exclamation  which  burst  from  Buchan's  lips  with  his 
first  words,  for  great  was  the  earl's  surprise  as  he  looked  on  his 
son  ;  the  impression  he  was  still  a  child  had  remained  on  his 
mind  despite  all  reports  to  the  contrary,  but  no  softer  feeling 
obtained  dominion. 

"  Who  and  what  am  I  ?"  he  continued,  after  a  brief  pause. 
"  Wouldst  thou  know,  Alan  of  Buchan  ?  Even  a  faithful  knight, 
soldier,  and  subject  of  his  Royal  Highness  Edward,  king  of 
England  and  Scotland,  and  consequently  thy  foe  ;  the  insulted 
and  dishonored  husband  of  the  woman  thou  callest  mother,  and 
consequently  thy  father,  young  man.  Ha !  have  I  spoken 
home  ?  Thy  sword,  thy  sword  ;  acknowledge  thy  disloyalty 
to  thy  father  and  king,  and  for  thee  all  may  yet  be  well." 

"  Never !"  answered  Alan,  proudly,  the  earl's  concluding 
words  rousing  the  spirit  which  the  knowledge  of  beholding  his 
father  and  the  emotion  of  his  mother  seemed  to  have  crushed. 
"  Never,  Lord  of  Buchan  !  for  father  I  cannot  call  thee.  Thou 
mayest  force  me  to  resign  my  sword,  thou  mayest  bring  me  to 
the  block,  but  acknowledge  allegiance  to  a  foreign  tyrant,  who 
hath  no  claims  on  Scotland  or  her  sons,  save  those  of  hate  and 
detestation,  that  thou  canst  never  do,  even  if  thy  sword  be 
pointed  at  my  heart." 

"  Boy !"  burst  from  the  earl's  lips,  in  accents  of  irrepressible 
rage,  but  he  checked  himself ;  "  thou  hast  learned  a  goodly 
lesson  of  disobedience  and  daring,  of  a  truth,  and  I  should  ten- 
der grateful  thanks  to  thy  most  worthy,  most  efficient  and  vir- 
tuous teacher,"  he  added,  in  his  own  bitterly  sarcastic  tone. 
"  The  Lady  Isabella  deems,  perchance,  she  has  done  her  duty 
to  her  husband  in  placing  a  crown  on  the  head  of  his  hereditary 
and  hated  foe,  and  leading  his  son  in  the  same  path  of  rebellion 
and  disloyalty,  and  giving  his  service  to  the  murderer  of  his 
kinsman." 

"  Earl  of  Buchan,  I  have  done  my  duty  alike  to  my  country 
and  my  son,"  replied  the  countess,  her  high  spirit  roused  by  the 
taunts  of  her  husband.  "  According  to  the  dictates  of  my  con- 
science, mine  honor  as  a  Scottish  woman,  the  mother  of  a 
Scottish  warrior,  I  have  done  my  duty,  and  neither  imprison- 


150  THE    DAYS    OF   BKUCE. 

ment,  nor  torture,  nor  death  will  bid  me  retract  those  principles, 
or  waver  in  my  acknowledgment  of  Scotland  and  her  king. 
Pardon  me,  my  lord  ;  but  there  is  no  rebellion  in  resisting  the 
infringement  of  a  tyrant,  no  disloyalty  in  raising  the  standard 
against  Edward,  for  there  is  no  treason  when  there  is  no  lawful 
authority  ;  and  by  what  right  is  Edward  of  England  king  of 
Scotland  ?  Lord  of  Buchan,  I  have  done  my  duty.  As  my 
father  taught  me  I  have  taught  my  child !" 

"  Regarding,  of  course,  madam,  all  which  that  child's  father 
would  have  taught  him,  particularly  that  most  Christian  virtue 
returning  good  for  evil,  as  in  the  fact  of  revenging  the  death  of 
a  kinsman  with  the  gift  of  a  crown.  Oh  !  thou  hast  done  well, 
most  intrinsically  well." 

"  I  own  no  relationship  with  a  traitor,"  burst  impetuously 
from  Alan.  "  Sir  John  Comyn  was  honored  in  his  death,  for 
the  sword  of  the  Bruce  was  too  worthy  a  weapon  for  the  black 
heart  of  a  traitor.  Lord  of  Buchan,  we  are  in  thy  power,  it  is 
enough.  Hadst  thou  wished  thy  son  to  imbibe  thy  peculiar 
principles,  to  forget  his  country  and  her  rights,  it  had  been 
better  perchance  hadst  thou  remembered  thou  hadst  a  child — 
a  son.  Had  the  duty  of  a  father  been  performed,  perchance  I 
had  not  now  forgotten  mine  as  a  son !  As  it  is,  we  stand  as 
strangers  and  as  foes.  Against  thee  in  truth  I  will  not  raise 
my  sword ;  but  further,  we  are  severed  and  forever !"  He 
crossed  his  arms  proudly  on  his  bosom,  and  returned  the  dark, 
scowling  glance  of  his  father  with  a  flashing  eye,  and  a  mien  as 
firm  and  nobler  than  his  own. 

"  It  is  well,  young  man  ;  I  thank  you  for  my  freedom,"  re- 
turned the  earl,  between  his  teeth.  "  As  my  son,  I  might  stand 
between  thee  and  Edward's  wrath  ;  as  a  stranger  and  my  foe, 
why,  whate'er  his  sentence  be — the  axe  and  block  without 
doubt — let  it  work,  it  will  move  me  little." 

"  Heed  not  his  rash  words,  in  mercy,  heed  them  not !"  ex- 
claimed the  countess,  her  voice  of  agony  contrasting  strangely 
with  its  former  proud  reserve.  "  Neglected,  forgotten  him  as 
thou  hast,  yet,  Lord  of  Buchan,  he  is  still  thy  son.  Oh,  in 
mercy,  expose  him  not  to  the  deadly  wrath  of  Edward !  thou 
canst  save  him,  thou  canst  give  him  freedom.  It  is  I — I  who 
am  the  attainted  traitor,  not  my  child.  Give  me  up  to  Edward, 
and  he  will  heed  not,  ask  not  for  thy  son.  It  is  I  who  have 
•ffended  him  and  thee,  not  my  child.  Art  thou  not  a  Scottish 


THE  DAYS  OF  BKUCE.  151 

noble,  descendant  of  a  house  as  purely  loyal  and  devoted  to 
their  country  as  mine  own — art  thou  not  indeed  this  man,  and 
yet  hath  Edward,  the  deadly  foe  of  thy  race,  thy  land,  thy 
countrymen,  more  exalted  claims  than  thine  own  blood  ?  No, 
no,  it  cannot  be  !  thou  wilt  relent,  thou  wilt  have  mercy ;  let 
him  be  but  free,  and  do  with  me  even  what  thou  wilt !" 

"  Free !  go  free  !"  repeated  the  earl,  with  a  hoarse  laugh, 
ere  Alan  could  interfere.  "  Let  him  go  free,  forsooth,  when  he 
tells  me  he  is  my  foe,  and  will  go  hence  and  join  my  bitterest 
enemies  the  moment  he  is  free.  Go  free  !  and  who  art  thou 
who  askest  this  boon  ?  Hast  thou  such  claims  upon  me,  that 
for  thy  pleasure  I  should  give  freedom  to  thy  son  ?" 

"  My  lord,  my  lord,  'tis  for  thine  own  sake,  for  his,  thy  child 
as  well  as  mine,  I  do  beseech,  implore  thy  mercy  ?  draw  not 
the  curse  of  heaven  on  thy  heart  by  exposing  him  to  death. 
Thou  wilt  know  and  feel  him  as  indeed  thy  child  when  he  lies 
bleeding  before  thee,  when  thine  own  hand  hath  forged  the 
death-bolt,  and  then,  then  it  will  be  too  late  ;  thou  wilt  yearn 
for  his  voice  in  vain.  Oh  !  is  it  not  sufficient  triumph  to  have 
in  thy  power  the  wife  who  hath  dared  thy  authority,  who  hath 
joined  the  patriot  band,  and  so  drawn  down  on  her  the  ven- 
geance of  Edward  ?  The  price  of  a  traitor  is  set  upon  her  head. 
My  lord,  my  lord,  is  not  one  victim  enough — will  not  my  cap- 
ture insure  thee  reward  and  honor  in  the  court  of  Edward  ? 
Then  do  with  me  what  thou  wilt — chains,  torture,  death  ;  but 
my  child,  my  brave  boy — oh,  if  thou  hast  one  spark  of  mercy 
in  thy  heart,  let  him  go !" 

"  Mother,"  hoarsely  murmured  Alan,  as  he  strove  to  raise 
her  from  her  suppliant  posture,  "  mother,  this  shall  not  be ! 
look  upon  that  face  and  know  thou  pleadest  in  vain.  I  will  not 
accept  my  freedom  at  such  a  price  ;  thy  knee,  thy  supplications 
unto  a  heart  of  stone,  for  me !  No,  no  ;.  mother,  dear  mother, 
we  will  die  together !"  , 

"  Thou  shalt  not,  thou  shalt  not,  my  beloved,  my  beautiful ! 
thy  death  will  be  on  my  head,  though  it  come  from  a  father's 
hand.  I  will  plead,  I  will  be  heard !  My  lord,  my  lord,"  she 
continued,  wrought  to  a  pitch  of  agonized  feeling,  no  heart  save 
that  to  which  she  pleaded  could  have  heard  unmoved,  "  I  ask 
but  his  freedom,  the  freedom  of  a  boy,  a  child — and  of  whom 
do  I  ask  it  ? — of  his  father,  his  own  father !  Speak  to  me, 
answer  me ;  thou  canst  not  be  so  lost  to  the  voice,  the  feelings 


152  THE   DAYS   OF    BKUCE. 

of  nature.  For  the  sake  of  the  mother  who  loved,  the  father 
who  blessed  thee,  whose  blessing  hallowed  our  union  and  smiled 
on  our  infant  boy,  have  mercy  on  me,  on  thyself — let  him,  oh, 
let  him  be  free  !" 

"Mercy  on  thee,  thou  false  and  perjured  woman!"  the  earl 
burst  forth,  the  cold  sarcastic  expression  with  which  he  had  at 
first  listened  to  her  impassioned  entreaties  giving  way  to  the 
fearful  index  of  ungoverned  rage ;  "  on  thee,  thou  false  traitress, 
not  alone  to  thy  husband's  principles  but  to  his  honor  !  Do  I 
not  know  thee,  minion — do  I  not  know  the  motives  of  thy  con- 
duct in  leaving  thy  husband's  castle  for  the  court  of  Bruce  ? 
Patriotism,  forsooth — patriotism,  ha !  the  patriotism  that  had 
vent  in  giving  and  receiving  love  from  him  ;  it  was  so  easy  to 
do  homage  to  him  in  public  as  thy  king.  Oh,  most  rare  and 
immaculate  specimen  of  female  loyalty  and  virtue,  I  know  thee 
well !" 

"  Man  !"  answered  the  countess,  springing  from  her  knee,  and 
standing  before  him  with  a  mien  and  countenance  of  such  ma- 
jestic dignity,  that  for  a  brief  moment  it  awed  even  him,  and 
her  bewildered  son  gazed  at  her  with  emotions  of  awe,  strug- 
gling with  surprise. 

"  Ha !  faithless  minion,  thou  bravest  it  well,"  continued  Bu- 
chan,  determined  on  evincing  no  faltering  in  his  purpose,  "  but 
thou  bravest  it  in  vain ;  dishonored  thou  art,  and  hast  been, 
aye,  from  the  time  thy  minion  Robert  visited  thee  in  Buchan 
Tower,  and  lingered  with  thee  the  months  he  had  disappeared 
from  Edward's  court.  Would  Isabella  of  Buchan  have  ren- 
dered homage  to  any  other  bold  usurper,  save  her  minion  Rob- 
ert ?  Would  the  murder  of  a  Comyn  have  passed  unavenged 
by  her  had  the  murderer  been  other  than  her  gallant  Bruce  ? 
Would  Isabella  of  Buchan  be  here,  the  only  female  in  the 
Bruce's  train — for  I  know  that  he  is  with  thee — were  loyalty 
and  patriotism  her  only  motive  ?  Woman,  I  know  thee !  I 
know  that  thou  didst  love  him,  ere  that  false  hand  and  falser 
heart  were  given  to  me ;  thy  lips  spoke  perfidy  when  they 
vowed  allegiance  at  the  altar ;  and  shall  I  have  mercy  on  thy 
son,  for  such  as  thee  ?  Mercy  !  ha,  have  I  silenced  thy  elo- 
quence now  ?" 

"  Silenced,  false,  blasphemous  villian !"  vociferated  Alan, 
every  other  feeling  lost  in  the  whirlwind  of  passion,  and  spring- 
ing on  the  earl,  with  his  drawn  sword.  "  'Tis  thou  who  art 


THE   DATS   OF   BRUCE.  153 

the  false  and  faithless — thou  who  art  lost  to  every  feeling  of 
honor  and  of  truth.  Thy  words  are  false  as  hell,  from  whence 
they  spring !" 

"  Alan,  by  the  love  thou  bearest  me,  I  charge  thee  put  up 
thy  sword — it  is  thy  father !"  exclaimed  the  countess,  com- 
mandingly,  and  speaking  the  last  word  in  a  tone  that  thrilled 
to  the  boy's  heart.  He  checked  himself  in  his  full  career;  he 
snapped  his  drawn  sword  in  twain,  he  cast  it  passionately  from 
him,  and  uttering,  convulsively,  "  Oh  God,  oh  God,  my  father  !" 
flung  himself  in  agony  on  the  ground.  With  arms  folded  and 
the  smile  of  a  demon  on  his  lip  the  earl  had  awaited  his  attack, 
but  there  was  disappointment  within,  for  his  foul  charge  had 
failed  in  its  intended  effect.  Prouder,  colder,  more  command- 
ingly  erect  had  become  the  mein  of  the  countess  as  he  spoke, 
till  she  even  appeared  to  increase  in  stature  ;  her  flashing  eyes 
had  never  moved  from  his  face,  till  his  fell  beneath  them ;  her 
lip  had  curled,  his  cheek  had  flushed  :  powerful  indeed  became 
the  contrast  between  the  accused  and  the  accuser. 

"  Arise,  my  son,"  she  said,  "  arise  and  look  upon  thy  mother; 
her  brow  even  as  her  heart  is  unstained  with  shame ;  she  fears 
not  to  meet  the  glance  of  her  child.  Look  up,  my  boy ;  I 
speak  these  words  to  thee,  not  to  that  bold,  bad  man,  who  hath 
dared  unite  the  name  of  a  daughter  of  Fife  with  shame.  He 
hath  no  word  either  of  exculpation,  denial,  or  assent  from  me. 
But  to  thee,  my  child,  my  young,  my  innocent  child,  thee, 
whose  ear,  when  removed  from  me,  they  may  strive  to  poison 
with  false  tales,  woven  with  such  skill  that  hadst  thou  not  thy 
mother's  word,  should  win  thee  to  belief — to  thee  I  say,  look 
on  me,  Alan — is  this  a  brow  of  guilt  ?" 

"  No,  no,  no,  I  will  not  look  on  thee,  my  mother !  I  need 
not  to  gaze  on  thee  to  know  the  horrid  falsity  of  the  charge," 
answered  Alan,  flinging  his  arms  passionately  around  his 
mother.  "  Did  I  never  see  thee  more,  never  list  that  voice 
again,  and  did  all  the  fiends  of  hell  come  around  me  with  their 
lies,  I  would  not  hear,  much  less  believe  such  charge.  No,  no ! 
oh  God,  'tis  my  father,  speaks  it !  Father — and  my  hand  is 
powerless  to  avenge." 

"  I  need  not  vengeance,  my  beloved ;  grieve  not,  weep  not 
that  thy  hand  is  chained,  and  may  not  defend  thy  mother's 
stainless  name  ;  I  need  it  not.  My  heart  is  known  unto  my 
God,  my  innocence  to  thee ;  his  blessing  rest  with  thee,  my 

7* 


154  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

beautiful,  and  give  thee  strength  for  all  thou  mayest  en- 
dure." 

She  bent  down  to  kiss  his  brow,  which  was  damp  with  the 
dew  of  intense  anguish.  He  started  up,  he  gave  one  long  look 
on  her  calm  and  noble  face,  and  then  he  flung  himself  in  her 
arms,  and  sobbed  like  a  child  on  her  bosom.  It  was  a  fearful 
moment  for  that  woman  heart ;  had  she  been  alone  with  her 
child,  both  nerve  and  spirit  must  have  given  way,  but  fortu- 
nately, perhaps,  for  the  preservation  of  her  fortitude,  the  Earl 
of  Buchan  was  still  the  witness  of  that  scene,  triumphing  in  the 
sufferings  he  had  caused.  The  countess  did  indeed  fold  her 
boy  convulsively  to  her  breast,  but  she  did  not  bend  her  head 
on  his,  as  Nature  prompted  ;  it  was  still  erect ;  her  mien  ma- 
jestic still,  and  but  a  slight  quivering  in  her  beautiful  lip  be- 
trayed emotion. 

"  Be  firm  ;  be  thy  noble  self,"  she  said.  "  Forget  not  thou 
art  a  knight  and  soldier  amid  the  patriots  of  Scotland.  And 
now  a  while,  farewell." 

She  extricated  herself  with  some  difficulty  from  his  embrace ; 
she  paused  not  to  gaze  again  upon  the  posture  of  overwhelm- 
ing despondency  in  which  he  had  sunk,  but  with  a  step  quick 
and  firm  advanced  to  the  door. 

"  Whither  goest  thou,  madam  ?"  demanded  the  earl  fiercely. 
"  Bold  as  thou  art,  it  is  well  to  know  thou  art  a  prisoner,  ac- 
cused of  high  treason  against  King  Edward." 

"  I  need  not  your  lordship's  voice  to  give  me  such  informa- 
tion," she  answered,  proudly.  "  Methinks  these  armed  follow- 
ers are  all-sufficient  evidence.  Guard  me,  aye,  confine  me  with 
fetters  an  thou  wilt,  but  in  thy  presence  thou  canst  not  force 
me  to  abide." 

"  Bid  a  last  farewell  to  thy  son,  then,  proud  minion,"  he  re- 
plied, with  fiendish  malignity  ;  "  for  an  ye  part  now,  it  is  for- 
ever. Ye  see  him  not  again." 

"  Then  be  it  so,"  she  rejoined  ;  "  we  shall  meet  where  false- 
hood and  malignant  hate  can  never  harm  us  more,"  and  .with 
a  gesture  of  dignity,  more  irritating  to  the  earl  than  the  fiercest 
demonstration  of  passion,  she  passed  the  threshold.  A  sign 
from  Buchan  surrounded  her  with  guards,  and  by  them  she 
was  conducted  to  a  smaller  apartment,  which  was  first  care- 
fully examined  as  to  any  concealed  means  of  escape,  and  then 
she  was  left  alone,  a  strong  guard  stationed  at  the  door. 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  155 

The  first  few  minutes  after  the  disappearance  of  the  countess 
were  passed  by  her  husband  in  rapidly  striding  up  and  down 
the  room,  by  her  son,  in  the  same  posture  of  mute  and  motion- 
less anguish  in  which  she  had  left  him.  There  is  no  need  to 
define  that  suffering,  his  peculiar  situation  is  all-sufficient  to 
explain  it.  Hurriedly  securing  the  door  from  all  intruders,  the 
earl  at  length  approached  his  son. 

"  Wouldst  thou  be  free  ?"  he  said,  abruptly.  "  Methinks 
thou  art  young  enough  still  to  love  liberty  better  than  chains, 
and  perchance  death.  Speak,  I  tell  thee;  wouldst  thou  be 
free  ?" 

"  Free  !"  answered  Alan,  raising  his  head,  with  flashing  eye 
and  burning  cheek  ;  "  would  I  be  free  ?  Ask  of  the  chained 
lion,  the  caged  bird,  and  they  will  tell  thee  the  greenwood 
and  forest  glade  are  better,  dearer,  even  though  the  chain  were 
gemmed,  the  prison  gilded.  Would  I  be  free  ?  Thou  know- 
est  that  I  would." 

"Swear,  then,  that  thou  wilt  quit  Scotland,  and  vow  fealty 
to  Edward ;  that  never  more  will  thy  sword  be  raised  save 
against  the  contemned  and  hated  Bruce.  Be  faithful  but  to 
me  and  to  King  Edward,  and  thou  shalt  be  free." 

"  Never  !"  answered  Alan,  proudly.  "  Earl  of  Buchan,  I 
accept  no  conditions  with  my  freedom ;  I  will  not  be  free,  if 
only  on  this  base  condition.  Turn  recreant  and  traitor  to  my 
country  and  my  king !  resign  the  precious  privilege  of  dying, 
if  I  may  not  live,  for  Scotland — I  tell  thee,  never  !  Urge  me 
no  more." 

"  Nay,  thou  art  but  a  boy,  a  foolish  boy,"  continued  the 
earl,  struggling  to  speak  persuadingly,  "  incapable  of  judging 
that  which  is  right  and  best.  I  tell  thee,  I  will  give  thee  not 
freedom  alone,  but  honor,  station,  wealth  ;  I  will  acknowledge 
thee  as  my  well-beloved  son  and  heir  ;  I  will  forget  all  that  is 
past ;  nay,  not  e'en  thy  will  or  actions  will  I  restrain  ;  I  will 
bind  thee  by  no  vow  ;  thou  shalt  take  no  part  with  Edward ; 
I  will  interfere  not  with  thy  peculiar  politics  ;  e'en  what  thou 
wilt  thou  shalt  do,  aye,  and  have — and  all  this  but  on  one  con- 
dition, so  slight  and  simple  that  thou  art  worse  than  fool  an 
thou  refusest." 

"  Speak  on,"  muttered  Alan,  without  raising  his  head.  "  I 
hear." 

"  Give  me  but  information  of  the  movements  of  him  thou 


156  THE    DAYS    OF   BRUCE. 

callest  king,"  replied  Buchan,  in  a  low  yet  emphatically  distinct 
voice  ;  "  give  me  but  a  hint  as  to  where  we  may  meet  him  in 
combat — in  all  honorable  and  knightly  combat,  thou  knowest 
that  I  mean — give  me  but  information  such  as  this,  and  thou 
art  free,  unshackled,  in  condition  as  in  limb." 

" In  other  words,  betray  him"  replied  Alan,  starting  up. 
"  Purchase  my  freedom  with  the  price  of  his  !  mine,  of  nothing 
worth,  aye,  less  than  nothing,  redeemed  by  his !  Oh,  shame, 
shame  on  thee,  my  lord !  Well  mayest  thou  offer  me  freedom 
of  action  as  in  will  on  such  condition.  Of  little  heed  to  Ed- 
ward were  the  resistance  of  all  Scotland,  were  Robert  in  his 
power.  Honor,  station,  wealth ! — oh,  knowest  thou  the  hu- 
man heart  so  little  as  to  believe  these  can  exist  with  black 
treachery  and  fell  remorse  ?  Once  and  forever,  I  tell  thee 
thine  offers  are  in  vain.  Were  death  in  one  scale,  and  free, 
unshackled  liberty  in  the  other,  and  thou  badest  me  choose  be- 
tween, I  would  not  so  stain  my  soul.  Death,  death  itself  were 
welcome,  aye,  worse  than  death — confinement,  chains.  I  would 
hug  them  to  my  heart  as  precious  boons,  rather  than  live  and 
walk  the  earth  a  traitor." 

"  Beware  !"  muttered  the  earl ;  "  tempt  me  not  too  far,  rash 
boy.  I  would  not  do  thee  ill ;  I  would  have  pity  on  thy  er- 
ring youth,  remembering  the  evil  counsels,  the  base  heart  which 
hath  guided  thee." 

"  Do  thou  beware  !"  retorted  Alan,  fiercely.  "  Speak  not 
such  foul  words  to  me.  Father,  as  I  know  thou  art  in  blood, 
there  are  ties  far  stronger  which  bind  me  to  my  mother — ties, 
neglect,  forgetfulness,  indifference  as  thine  can  never  know. 
Pity,  aye,  mercy's  self,  I  scorn  them,  for  I  need  them  not." 

"Ha!  sayest  thou  so;  then  I  swear  thou  shalt  not  have 
them  !"  exclaimed  the  earl,  rage  again  obtaining  the  ascendant. 
"  I  would  have  saved  thee  ;  I  would  have  given  thee  freedom, 
though  I  needed  not  the  condition  that  I  offered.  Thinkest 
thou  I  do  not  know  that  the  traitor  Bruce  and  his  followers 
will  return  hither,  and  fall  into  the  net  prepared?  thinkest 
thou  I  know  not  he  is  with  thee,  aye,  that  he  would  not  have 
left  his  patriot  countess  thus  slightly  guarded,  an  he  hoped  not 
to  return  himself  ?  He  cannot  escape  me — the  murder  of  Sir 
John  Comyn  will  be  avenged." 

"  He  shall,  he  will  escape  thee,  proud  earl,"  undauntedly 
returned  Alan.  "The  savior  of  his  wretched  country  will 


THE    DAYS    OF   BRUCE.  157 

not  be  forced  to  bow  before  such  as  thee  ;  he  will  be  saved 
out  of  the  net  prepared — harassed,  chased,  encompassed  as  he 
is.  I  tell  thee,  Earl  of  Buchan,  he  will  escape  thee  yet." 

"  Then,  by  heaven,  thy  head  shall  fall  for  his  !"  fiercely  re- 
plied the  earl.  "  If  he  return  not,  he  has  been  forewarned, 
prepared,  and  I,  fool  as  I  was,  have  thought  not  of  this  danger. 
Look  to  it,  proud  boy,  if  the  Bruce  return  not  forty-eight  hours 
hence,  and  thou  art  still  silent,  thou  diest." 

He  held  up  his  clenched  hand  in  a  threatening  attitude,  but 
Alan  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  firmly  returning  the  earl's  infu- 
riated gaze  till  the  door  closed  on  his  father's  retreating  form. 
He  heard  the  bolts  drawn,  the  heavy  tramp  of  the  guard,  and 
then  he  threw  himself  on  the  couch,  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WHILE  these  fearful  scenes  were  passing  in  the  hunting- 
lodge,  Malcolm,  the  young  page  already  mentioned,  had  con- 
trived to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  earl's  numerous  followers, 
and  reach  the  brow  of  the  hollow  in  perfect  safety.  Endowed 
with  a  sense  and  spirit  above  his  years,  and  inspired  by  his  de- 
voted attachment  to  the  countess  and  Sir  Alan,  the  boy  did 
not  merely  think  of  his  own  personal  security,  and  of  the  simple 
act  of  warning  the  king  against  the  treachery  which  awaited 
his  return,  but,  with  an  eye  and  mind  well  practised  in  intelli- 
gent observation,  he  scanned  the  numbers,  character,  and  pe- 
culiar situation  of  the  foes  which  had  so  unexpectedly  come 
upon  them.  Being  peculiarly  small  and  light  in  figure,  and 
completely  clothed  in  a  dark  green  tunic  and  hose,  which  was 
scarcely  discernible  from  the  trees  and  shrubs  around,  he  stole 
in  and  out  every  brake  and  hollow,  clambering  lightly  and 
noiselessly  over  crags,  hanging  like  a  broken  branch  from  stunt- 
ed trees,  leaping  with  the  elasticity  of  a  youthful  fawn  over 
stream  and  shrub,  and  thus  obtained  a  true  and  exact  idea  of 
the  matter  he  desired.  The  boy's  heart  did  indeed  sink  as  he 
felt  rescue  would  be  utterly  impossible  ;  that  in  one  direction 
the  English  force  extended  nearly  a  mile,  guarding  every  ave- 


158  THE   DAYS   OF  BKDCE. 

nue,  every  hollow  in  the  forest,  till  it  seemed  next  to  impossible 
King  Robert  could  escape,  even  if  forewarned.  Wherever  he 
turned  his  steps  the  enemy  appeared  to  lurk,  but  he  wavered 
not  in  his  purpose.  Aware  of  the  direction  which  the  king 
would  take  in  returning,  Malcolm  slackened  not  his  speed  until 
some  three  hours  after  he  had  quitted  the  hollow,  and  he 
stood  before  his  sovereign  well-nigh  too  exhausted  for  the  ut- 
terance of  his  tale. 

The  first  impulse  of  the  king  and  his  true-hearted  followers 
was  to  dare  all  danger,  and  rescue  the  countess  and  her  brave 
son  at  the  expense  of  their  lives  ;  but  Malcolm,  flinging  him- 
self at  the  feet  of  Robert,  adjured  him,  in  the  name  of  the 
countess,  to  remember  and  act  upon  the  vow  he  had  so  sol- 
emnly pledged  at  parting.  He  earnestly  and  emphatically  re- 
peated the  last  injunctions  of  his  lady,  her  deep  r.nguish  that 
the  king,  the  savior  of  Scotland,  should  hazard  all  for  her  and 
her  child — better  they  should  die  than  Robert ;  but  these  en- 
treaties were  but  anguish  to  the  noble  spirit  who  heard,  aye, 
and  felt  their  truth,  though  abide  by  them  he  could  not. 
Again  and  again  he  questioned  and  cross-questioned  as  to  their 
numbers  and  their  strength,  but  Malcolm  never  wavered  from 
his  first  account ;  clearly  and  concisely  he  gave  every  required 
information,  and  with  bleeding  hearts  that  little  band  of  pa- 
triots felt  they  dared  not  hope  to  rescue  and  to  conquer.  Yet 
tacitly  to  assent  to  necessity,  to  retreat  without  one  blow,  to 
leave  their  faithful  companions  to  death,  without  one  stroke 
for  vengeance  at  least,  if  not  for  relief,  this  should  not  be. 

"  We  will  see  with  our  own  eyes,  hear  with  our  own  ears, 
at  least,  my  friends,"  King  Robert  said.  "  Is  there  one  among 
ye  would  retreat,  from  the  narrative  of  a  child,  true  as  it  may 
be  ?  Remember  the  pass  in  Argyle  ;  if  necessary,  your  sov- 
ereign can  protect  your  retreat  now  as  then  ;  and  we  shall  at 
least  feel  we  have  struggled  to  rescue,  striven  for  the  mastery, 
even  if  it  be  in  vain.  Were  my  death,  aye,  the  death  of  Scot- 
land the  forfeit,  I  could  not  so  stain  my  knightly  fame  by  such 
retreat.  Let  but  the  morning  dawn,  and  we  will  ourselves 
mark  the  strength  of  our  foes." 

There  was  not  one  dissenting  voice,  rash  as  his  determina- 
tion might  appear.  The  extraordinary  skill  and  courage  of 
their  sovereign,  displayed  in  so  many  instances  during  their 
perilous  wanderings,  were  too  fresh  in  their  memories  to  permit 


THE   DAYS   OF   BBUCE.  159 

of  one  doubt,  one  fear,  even  had  he  led  them  on  to  certain 
death.  To  throw  themselves  from  their  tired  chargers,  to  give 
them  food,  to  lie  down  themselves  for  a  brief  repose  on  the 
turf,  that  they  might  be  strengthened  and  cheered  for  the 
work  of  the  morning,  all  this  did  not  occupy  much  time  ;  and 
if  their  slumbers  were  brief  and  troubled,  it  did  not  prevent 
their  rising  with  alacrity  at  the  first  peep  of  day  to  polish  their 
arms,  look  to  the  sharpening  of  their  swords  and  spears,  share 
the  rude  huntsman's  meal,  and  mount  and  ride  with  the  first 
signal  of  their  king. 

But  bold  and  brave  as  were  these  true-hearted  men,  suc- 
cessful as,  comparatively  speaking,  they  were  in  the  number- 
less skirmishes  which  took  place  that  day,  darkness  overtook 
them,  with  increase  of  glory  indeed,  but  no  nearer  the  accom- 
plishment of  their  object  than  they  had  been  in  the  morning. 

With  bitter  sorrow  King  Robert  had  perceived  the  full  con- 
firmation of  the  page's  words.  The  early  close  of  the  night 
attendant  on  the  autumn  season  was  also  unfavorable  to  his 
views ;  the  events  of  the  day  had  fully  convinced  him  that 
many  an  ambush  was  set  in  his  path,  that  his  personal  safety 
was  wholly  incompatible  with  a  night  attack,  and  therefore  he 
was  compelled  to  remain  on  the  defensive  in  one  spot,  which 
was  fortunately  barricaded  and  concealed  by  Nature,  during 
the  many  long  and  weary  hours  forming  an  October  night. 
Yet  still  the  following  day  beheld  him  struggling  on,  in  the 
face  alike  of  disappointment,  defeat,  and  danger  the  most  im- 
minent ;  still  seeking  the  same  object,  still  hoping  against  hope, 
and  retreating  only  because  the  welfare  of  his  country,  of  her 
unfortunate  children,  depended  upon  him ;  bands  more  and 
more  numerous  pressed  upon  him,  coming  from  every  side, 
that  scarcely  was  one  skilfully  eluded  ere  he  had  to  struggle 
against  another.  Nothing  but  the  most  consummate  skill,  the 
most  patient  courage,  and  coolest  address  could  have  extricated 
him  from  the  fearful  dangers  which  encompassed  him.  Again 
did  his  followers  believe  he  bore  a  charmed  life,  for  not  only 
did  he  deal  destruction,  unhurt  himself,  but  after  three  days' 
almost  incessant  fighting  and  fatigue,  he  had  brought  them  to 
a  place  of  safety,  with  but  the  loss  of  five-and-twenty  men. 

But  though  painfully  conscious  that  further  efforts  for  the 
rescue  of  his  friends  were  completely  useless,  King  Robert 
could  not  rest  satisfied  without  some  more  accurate  knowledge 


160  THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

of  their  fate,  and  after  some  hurried  yet  anxious  consultation. 
Sir  James  Douglas,  with  that  daring  which  so  marked  his 
simplest  action,  declared  that  at  all  risks  he  would  seek  some 
tidings  that  would  end  their  anxiety.  In  the  disguise  of  a 
peasant  he  would  be  secure  from  all  discovery,  he  said ;  and 
he  had  not  the  slightest  fear  as  to  the  success  of  the  adventure. 
Five  others  started  up  as  he  spoke,  entreating  permission  to 
take  the  same  disguise  and  accompany  him.  It  was  granted  ; 
King  Robert  advising  them,  however,  to  adopt  a  diversity  of 
costume,  and  keep  each  one  apart  as  they  approached  in- 
habited districts,  as  their  numbers  might  excite  suspicion,  even 
though  the  actual  disguise  was  complete.  With  arms  con- 
cealed beneath  their  various  disguises,  they  departed  that  same 
evening,  engaging  to  meet  the  king  at  the  base  of  Ben-Cruchan, 
some  miles  more  south  than  their  present  trysting.  It  was  an 
anxious  parting,  and  yet  more  when  they  were  actually  gone  ; 
for  the  high  spirit  and  vein  of  humor  which  characterized  the 
young  Lord  Douglas  had  power  to  cheer  his  friends  even  in 
the  most  painful  moments.  King  Robert,  indeed,  exerted  him- 
self, but  this  last  stroke  had  been  a  heavy  one ;  knowing  so 
well  the  character  of  Edward,  he  trembled  both  for  the  count- 
ess and  her  noble  son,  perhaps  less  for  the  latter  than  the 
former,  for  he  hoped  and  believed  the  Earl  of  Buchan,  if  in- 
deed he  were  their  captor,  would  at  least  have  some  mercy  on 
his  son,  but  for  the  countess  he  knew  that  there  was  no  hope. 
The  character,  the  sentiments  of  the  earl  had  been  noticed  by 
the  Bruce  when  both  were  at  the  court  of  Edward,  and  he  felt 
and  knew  that  any  excuse  to  rid  him  of  a  wife  whose  virtues 
were  obnoxious  to  him  would  be  acted  on  with  joy.  And  here, 
perhaps,  it  may  be  well  to  say  a  few  words  as  to  the  real  na- 
ture of  King  Robert's  sentiments  towards  Isabella  of  Buchan, 
as  from  the  anxiety  her  detention  occasioned  they  may  be  so 
easily  misunderstood. 

We  have  performed  our  task  but  ill  if  our  readers  have 
imagined  aught  but  the  most  purely  noble,  most  chivalric  sen- 
timents actuated  the  heart  of  the  king.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  nature  of  those  sentiments  in  earlier  days,  since  his 
marriage  with  the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Mar  they  had  never 
entered  his  soul. 

He  had  always  believed  the  Lady  Isabella's  union  with 
Lord  John  Comyn  was  one  of  choice,  not  6f  necessity,  nor 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  161 

did  his  visit  to  her  after  the  battle  of  Falkirk  recall  any  former 
feeling.  His  mind  had  been  under  the  heavy  pressure  of  that 
self-reproach  which  the  impressive  words  of  Wallace  had  first 
awakened ;  the  wretched  state  of  his  country,  the  tyranny  of 
Edward,  occupied  the  mind  of  the  man  in  which  the  emotions 
of  the  boy  had  merged.  He  was,  too,  a  husband  and  a  father ; 
and  he  was,  as  his  fond  wife  so  trustingly  believed,  too  nobly 
honorable  to  entertain  one  thought  to  her  dishonor.  He  looked 
on  Isabella  of  Buchan  as  one  indeed  demanding  his  utmost 
esteem  and  gratitude,  his  most  faithful  friendship,  and  he  secretly 
vowed  that  she  should  have  it ;  but  these  emotions  took  not 
their  coloring  from  the  past,  they  were  excited  simply  by  her 
high-minded  devotion  to  the  cause  of  her  country,  her  unshrink- 
ing patriotism,  her  noble  qualities,  alike  as  a  mother,  subject, 
friend.  He  felt  but  as  one  noble  spirit  ever  feels  for  a  kindred 
essence,  heightened  perhaps  by  the  dissimilarity  of  sex,  but 
aught  of  love,  even  in  its  faintest  shadow,  aught  of  dishonor- 
able feelings  towards  her  or  his  own  Avife  never  entered  his 
wildest  dream.  It  was  the  recollection  of  her  unwavering 
loyalty,  of  the  supporting  kindness  she  had  ever  shown  his 
queen,  which  occasioned  his  bitter  sorrow  at  her  detention  by 
the  foe ;  it  was  the  dread  that  the  cruel  wrath  of  Edward 
would  indeed  condemn  her  to  death  for  the  active  part  she  had 
taken  in  his  coronation  ;  the  conviction,  so  agonizing  to  a  mind 
like  his,  that  he  had  no  power  to  rescue  and  avenge ;  the  fear- 
ful foreboding  that  thus  would  all  his  faithful  friends  fall  from 
him — this,  only  this,  would  be  the  reward  of  all  who  served 
and  loved  him  ;  and  even  while  still,  with  undaunted  firmness, 
cheering  the  spirits  of  his  adherents,  speaking  hope  to  them, 
his  own  inward  soul  was  tortured  with  doubts  as  to  the  wisdom 
of  his  resistance,  lingering  regrets  for  the  fate  of  those  of  his 
friends  already  lost  to  him,  and  painful  fears  for  the  final  doom 
of  those  who  yet  remained. 

It  was  in  such  moments  of  despondency  that  remorse,  too, 
ever  gained  dominion,  and  heightened  his  inward  struggles. 
Robert's  hand  was  not  framed  for  blood ;  his  whole  soul  re- 
volted from  the  bitter  remembrance  of  that  fatal  act  of  passion 
which  had  stained  his  first  rising.  He  would  have  given  worlds, 
if  he  had  had  them,  to  have  recalled  that  deed.  Busy  fancy 
represented  a  hundred  ways  of  punishing  treachery  other  than 
that  which  his  fury  had  adopted ;  and  this  remembrance  ever 


162  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

increased  the  anguish  with  which  he  regarded  the  fate  of  his 
friends.  His  lot  was  indeed  as  yet  one  of  unexampled  suffer- 
ing, borne  by  heroism  as  great  as  unequalled ;  but  the  lustre 
of  the  latter  too  frequently  dazzles  the  mind,  and  prevents  the 
full  meed  of  glory  being  obtained.  His  heroism  is  known  to 
all,  his  sufferings  to  but  a  few ;  but  perhaps  it  was  the  latter  yet 
more  than  the  former  which  gave  to  Scotland  the  glory  and 
honor  she  acquired  in  his  reign.  Heroism  is  scarce  separable 
from  ambition,  but  to  mere  ambition  the  voice  of  suffering  is 
seldom  heard.  Heroism  dazzles  the  crowd,  suffering  purifies 
the  man.  If  Robert  the  Bruce  were  ambitious,  the  passion  in 
him  assumed  a  nobler  and  better  form  ;  yet  we  can  scarcely  call 
that  ambition  which  sought  but  the  delivery  of  Scotland  from 
chains,  but  the  regaining  an  ancient  heritage,  and  sought  no 
more.  It  was  patriotism  hallowed  by  suffering,  purified  by 
adversity ;  patriotism  the  noblest,  purest  which  ever  entered 
the  heart  of  man. 

King  Robert  and  his  handful  of  followers  not  only  reached 
their  trysting-place  themselves,  but  were  joined  by  the  queen, 
and  many  of  her  female  companions  and  their  attendant  war- 
riors, ere  Lord  James  of  Douglas  returned ;  three  of  his  com- 
panions had  straggled  in,  one  by  one,  with  various  accounts, 
but  none  So  satisfactory  as  the  king  desired,  and  he  believed 
with  justice,  that  Douglas  lingered  to  bring,  if  not  satisfactory 
(for  that,  alas !  could  not  be)  yet  accurate  intelligence.  If 
aught  could  have  comforted  Agnes  in  these  moments  of  agonized 
suspense,  it  would  have  been  not  alone  the  redoubled  affection 
of  her  Nigel,  but  the  soothing  kindness,  the  love  and  sympathy 
of  a  father,  which  was  lavished  on  her  by  King  Robert ;  nay, 
each  of  those  rude  warriors  softened  in  address  and  tone,  as 
they  looked  on  and  spoke  to  that  fair,  fragile  being,  whom  they 
feared  now  stood  alone.  She  did  not  weep  when  other  eyes 
than  those  of  Nigel,  or  the  Lady  Campbell,  or  the  gentle 
Isoline  were  on  her,  but  that  deadly  pallor,  that  quivering  lip, 
and  heavy  eye  spoke  all  that  she  endured. 

A  large  cavern,  divided  by  Nature  into  many  compartments, 
was  now  the  temporary  shelter  of  the  king  and  his  friends. 
It  was  situated  at  the  base  of  Ben-Cruchan,  which,  though  at 
the  entrance  of  the  territories  of  Lorn,  was  now  comparatively 
secure,  the  foe  imagining  the  Bruce  still  amidst  the  mountains 
of  Aberdeenshire. 


THE  DAYS   OF  BETJCE.  163 

The  evening  meal  was  spread ;  a  huge  fire  blazing  in  the 
stony  cavity  removed  all  appearance  of  damp  or  discomfort, 
and  shed  a  warm,  ruddy  light  on  the  groups  within.  It  was 
a  rude  home  for  the  King  of  Scotland  and  his  court,  yet  neither 
murmuring  nor  despondency  was  marked  on  the  bold  brows  of 
the  warriors,  or  the  gentler  and  paler  features  of  their  faithful 
companions ;  their  frames,  indeed,  showed  the  effect  of  wan- 
dering and  anxiety ;  many  an  eye  which  had  been  bright  was 
sunken,  many  a  blooming  cheek  was  paled ;  but  the  lip  yet 
smiled,  the  voice  had  yet  its  gleesome  tones  to  soothe  and  cheer 
their  warrior  friends  ;  the  eager  wish  to  prepare  the  couch  and 
dress  the  simple  meal,  to  perform  those  many  little  offices  of 
love  and  kindness  so  peculiarly  a  woman's,  and  engaged  in  with 
a  zest,  a  skill  which  was  intuitive,  for  there  had  been  a  time, 
and  one  not  far  distant,  when  those  highborn  females  little 
dreamed  such  household  deeds  would  be  their  occupation. 

Brightly  and  beautifully  shone  forth  conjugal  and  filial  love 
in  those  wandering  hours  ;  the  wife,  the  child,  the  sister  bound 
themselves  yet  closer  to  the  warrior  husband,  father,  brother, 
which  claimed  them  his.  Yet  sweet,  most  sweet  as  were  those 
acts  of  love,  there  were  anxious  and  loving  hearts  which  felt 
that  soon,  too  soon,  they  must  part  from  them,  they  must  per- 
suade those  gentle  ones  to  accede  to  a  temporary  separation — 
they  could  not,  they  would  not  expose  them  to  the  snows  and 
killing  frosts  of  a  Scottish  winter. 

Anxiety,  deep  anxiety  was  on  the  heart  of  King  Robert,  be- 
coming more  painful  with  each  glance  he  fixed  on  Agnes,  who 
was  sitting  apart  with  Nigel,  her  aching  head  resting  on  his 
shoulder,  but  he  strove  to  return  the  caresses  of  his  daughter, 
to  repay  with  fond  smiles  the  exertions  of  his  wife.  Sir  Niel 
Campbell  (who,  after  many  painful  trials,  had  rejoined  the  king) 
and  others  strove  to  disperse  the  silently  gathering  gloom  by 
jest  and  song,  till  the  cavern  walls  re-echoed  with  their  soldier 
mirth.  Harshly  and  mournfully  it  fell  on  the  ear  and  heart  of 
the  maiden  of  Buchan,  but  she  would  not  have  it  stilled. 

"  No,  no ;  do  thou  speak  to  me,  Nigel,  and  I  shall  only  list 
to  thee.  Why  should  the  noble  efforts  of  these  brave  men — 
for  I  know  even  to  them  mirth  is  now  an  effort — be  chilled  and 
checked,  because  my  sick  heart  beats  not  in  unison  ?  Oh,  when 
will  Lord  James  return  ?" 

Nigel  sought  to  soothe,  to  speak  hope,  but  though  his  words 


164  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

fell  like  balm  on  the  bleeding  heart  he  held  to  his,  it  was  the 
rich  melody  of  their  Voice,  not  the  matter  of  their  meaning. 

The  hour  of  rest  was  fast  approaching,  when  the  well-known 
signal  was  heard  without,  and  the  young  Lord  Douglas,  with 
his  two  companions,  were  hastily  and  eagerly  admitted  within 
the  cave.  Their  looks  denoted  great  fatigue,  and  the  eager 
eyes  which  scanned  their  countenances  read  little  to  hope,  yet 
much,  much,  alas  !  to  fear. 

"  Thou  hast  so  far  succeeded  as  to  obtain  the  intelligence  we 
need,"  was  the  king's  instant  greeting,  as  he  released  his  fa- 
vorite young  follower  from  his  embrace  ;  "  that  I  can  read,  but 
further,  I  fear  me,  thou  hast  little  to  communicate  which  we 
shall  love  to  hear." 

"  My  tidings  are  ill  indeed,  your  highness  ;  aggravated  and 
most  undreamed-of  ill.  But,  perchance,"  and  the  young  man 
hesitated,  for  his  eye  caught  the  pallid  face  of  Agnes,  who  had 
irresistibly  drawn  closer  to  the  circle  about  the  king,  and  fixed 
her  eyes  on  him  with  an  expression  almost  wild  in  its  agony, 
"  perchance  they  had  better  first  meet  your  grace's  private 
ear." 

"  No,  no  !"  reiterated  Agnes,  springing  forward,  and  cling- 
ing convulsively  to  his  arm.  "  It  is  only  me  thou  fearest,  I 
know  ;  I  know  thou  wouldst  spare  me,  but  do  not,  do  not.  I 
can  bear  all,  every  thing,  save  this  horrible  suspense  ;  speak 
out,  let  me  but  know  all,  and  then  I  can  teach  my  soul  to  bear 
it.  Oh,  do  not  hesitate,  do  not  pause  ;  in  mercy,  tell  me — oh, 
tell  me  all !" 

Thus  adjured,  but  feeling  most  painfully  the  suffering  his 
tale  would  produce,  Douglas  struggled  with  his  own  emotion, 
and  repeated  all  the  information  he  had  obtained.  Guardedly 
as  he  spoke,  evidently  as  he  endeavored  to  prepare  the  mind 
of  Agnes,  and  thus  soften  its  woe,  his  tale  was  yet  such  as  to 
harrow  up  the  hearts  of  all  his  hearers,  how  much  more  the 
frail  and  gentle  being  to  whom  it  more  immediately  related ; 
yet  she  stood  calm,  pale,  indeed,  and  quivering,  but  with  a 
desperate  effort  conquering  the  weakness  of  her  nature,  and 
bearing  that  deep  woe  as  the  daughter  of  her  mother,  the 
betrothed  of  Nigel  Bruce." 

The  young  lord's  information  was  simply  this.  On  nearing 
the  hunting-lodge,  which  was  his  first  object,  he  found  it  very 
nearly  deserted,  but  a  few  stragglers,  amounting  perhaps  to 


THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  165 

fifty  in  number  of  the  followers  of  Buchan,  remaining  behind, 
with  orders  to  follow  their  master  to  Dunkeld  without  delay. 
Mingling  with  these  as  a  countryman  of  the  more  northern 
counties,  eager  to  obtain  every  species  of  intelligence  respecting 
the  movements  of  the  English  and  the  hunted  Bruce,  whom 
he  pretended  to  condemn  and  vilify  after  the  fashion  of  the 
Anglo- Scots,  and  feeling  perfectly  secure  not  only  in  the  dis- 
guise he  had  assumed,  but  in  the  peculiar  accent  and  intonation 
of  the  north-country  peasant,  which  he  could  assume  at  pleas- 
ure, he  made  himself  a  welcome  guest,  and  with  scarcely  any 
trouble  received  much  of  the  information  he  desired.  He  was 
told  of  the  first  capture  and  rescue  of  the  Countess  of  Buchan  ; 
that  it  was  through  one  of  the  men  left  for  dead  on  the  scene 
of  the  skirmish  the  earl  had  received  such  exact  information 
concerning  the  movements  and  intended  destination  of  the 
Bruce  ;  that  immediately  on  receiving  this  intelligence  he  had 
gathered  all  his  force,  amounting  to  five  hundred  men,  and  di- 
viding them  into  different  bands,  sent  skilful  guides  with  each, 
and  was  thus  enabled  to  surround  the  lodge,  and  command 
five  different  avenues  of  the  forest,  without  interruption  or  dis- 
covery. He  learned,  too,  that  a  stormy  interview  had  taken 
place  between  the  earl,  his  wife,  and  son,  the  particulars  of 
which,  however,  had  not  transpired  ;  that  the  earl's  rage  had 
been  terrific  when  he  found  the  night  passed,  and  the  Bruce 
had  not  fallen  into  the  snare  laid  for  him ;  and  he  had  sworn  a 
fearful  oath,  that  if  the  countess  would  not  betray  him  into 
his  power,  her  son  should  die  ;  that  both  mother  and  son  had 
stood  this  awful  trial  without  shrinking ;  that  no  word  either 
to  betray  their  king  or  implore  life  and  mercy  had  been  wrung 
from  them.  Incensed  beyond  all  measure,  Buchan  had  sent 
on  the  countess  with  a  numerous  guard,  his  men  believed,  either 
to  Dunkeld  or  Perth,  in  both  of  which  towns  there  was  a  strong 
garrison  of  English,  and  lingered  yet  another  day  and  night  in 
the  hope  of  dragging  some  intelligence  from  the  lips  of  Alan, 
or  persuading  him  into  acting  the  spy  upon  the  actions  and 
movements  of  the  Bruce.  He  succeeded  in  neither ;  and  the 
men  continued  to  state,  with  shuddering  horror,  which  even 
their  rude  natures  could  not  suppress,  that  they  believed  the 
son  had  actually  fallen  a  victim  to  his  father's  rage — that  he 
had  actually  been  murdered.  Numerous  reports  to  that  effect- 
had  been  circulated  on  all  sides,  and  though  they  had  watched 


166  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

• 

narrowly,  they  had  seen  nothing  to  contradict  it.  The  body 
of  the  unfortunate  boy  had  been  cast  into  a  deep  well,  heaps 
of  rubbish  flung  over  it,  and  the  well  built  up.  This  they  knew 
as  a  positive  certainty,  for  they  had  seen  it. 

Douglas  heard  this  tale  with  an  intensity  of  horror,  of  loath- 
ing, which  at  first  deprived  him  almost  of  every  other  feeling ; 
but  when  he  could  withdraw  himself  from  the  horrible  idea,  a 
species  of  disbelief  took  possession  of  him.  It  was  impossible 
such  utter  depravity,  such  fearful  insensibility  to  the  claims  of 
nature  could  exist  in  the  breast  of  any  man ;  it  was  a  tale 
forged  to  inflict  fresh  agony  on  the  mother's  heart,  and  he  de- 
termined on  discovering,  if  possible,  the  truth.  He  pretended 
entirely  to  disbelieve  it ;  declared  it  was  not  possible  ;  that  the 
earl  had  practised  on  their  credulity,  and  would  laugh  at  them 
afterwards  ;  and  contrived  so  well,  that  three  or  four  declared 
he  should  be  convinced  with  his  own  eyes,  and  set  about  pull- 
ing down  the  slight  brickwork  which  covered  the  well.  This 
was  what  Douglas  wanted,  and  he  eagerly  lent  them  a  helping 
hand. 

A  body  there  was  indeed,  in  form  and  in  clothing  so  exactly 
that  of  the  unhappy  Alan,  that,  even  though  the  face  was  so 
marred  it  could  not  be  recognized,  the  young  earl  could  doubt 
no  longer ;  the  young,  the  brave,  the  beautiful,  and  true,  had 
fallen  a  victim  to  his  own  patriot  loyalty,  and  by  a  father's 
hand.  The  deep  suffering  this  certainly  occasioned  was  re- 
garded by  his  companions  as  sulkiness  for  having  been  proved 
wrong  in  his  judgment ;  they  jeered  and  laughed  at  him  ac- 
cordingly, and  harshly  as  these  sounds  reverberated  in  his  heart, 
they  were  welcome,  as  enabling  him  still  more  easily  to  con- 
tinue his  disguise. 

He  accompanied  them  to  Dunkeld,  and  found  the  earl  had 
proceeded  with  his  wife  as  prisoner  to  the  castle  of  Stirling, 
there  to  deliver  her  over  to  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  through 
whom  to  be  sent  on  to  Edward.  Determined  on  seeing  her,  if 
possible,  Douglas  resolved  on  daring  the  danger,  and  venturing 
even  to  the  very  stronghold  of  his  foes.  The  horror  which 
this  unnatural  act  of  the  earl  had  excited  in  the  minds  of  his 
men,  he  found  had  extended  even  over  those  in  Dunkeld,  and 
through  them  he  learned  that,  directly  on  reaching  the  town, 
the  earl  had  sought  the  countess,  brutally  communicated  the 
death  of  her  son,  and  placed  in  her  hands  the  raven  curls  as 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  167 

all  which  remained  of  him,  some  of  which  were  dabbled  in 
blood  ;  that  she  had  remained  apparently  unmoved  while  in 
his  presence,  but  the  moment  he  left  her  had  sunk  into  a  suc- 
cession of  the  most  fearful  fainting  fits,  in  one  of  which  she 
had  been  removed  to  Stirling. 

Withdrawing  himself  from  his  companions,  under  pretence 
of  returning  to  his  home  in  the  north,  having,  he  said,  loitered 
too  long,  Douglas  concealed  himself  for  some  days  in  the  ab- 
bey of  Scone,  the  holy  inmates  of  which  still  retained  their 
loyalty  and  patriotism,  notwithstanding  their  revered  abbot, 
unable  to  remain  longer  inactive,  had  donned  the  warrior's 
dress,  and  departed  to  join  and  fight  with  his  king.  Assum- 
ing the  cowl  and  robes  of  one  of  the  lay  brothers,  and  removing 
the  red  wig  and  beard  he  had  adopted  with  his  former  cos- 
tume, the  young  lord  took  the  staff  in  his  hand,  and  with  diffi- 
culty bringing  his  hasty  pace  to  a  level  with  the  sober  step  and 
grave  demeanor  of  a  reverend  monk,  reached  Stirling  just  as 
the  cavalcade,  with  the  litter  intended  for  the  captive  countess, 
had  assembled  before  the  castle  gate.  Agitated  almost  be- 
yond the  power  of  control,  Douglas  made  his  way  through 
the  gathering  crowds,  and  stood  unquestioned  close  beside  the 
litter.  He  did  not  wait  long.  Respectfully  supported  by  the 
Earl  of  Hereford  himself,  the  Countess  of  Buchan,  with  a  firm, 
unfaltering  step,  approached  the  litter.  The  hood  was  thrown 
back,  and  Douglas  could  read  the  effects  of  withering  agony 
on  the  marble  stillness  of  those  beautiful  features,  though  to 
all  else  they  spoke  but  firm  and  calm  resolve ;  there  was  not  a 
vestige  of  color  on  cheek  or  lip  or  brow  ;  and  though  her  figure 
was  as  commanding,  as  majestic  as  heretofore,  there  was  a 
fearful  attenuation  about  it,  speaking  volumes  to  Lord  James's 
heart.  Hereford  placed  her  in  the  litter,  and  with  a  respectful 
salutation  turned  away  to  give  some  necessary  orders  to  his 
men.  Bold  in  his  disguise,  Douglas  bent  over  the  countess, 
and  spoke  in  a  low,  feigned  voice  those  words  of  comfort  and 
of  peace  suited  to  his  assumed  character ;  but  feigned  as  it 
was,  the  countess  recognized  him  on  that  instant ;  a  convulsive 
shudder  passed  through  her  every  limb,  contracting  her  features 
with  very  agony. 

"  My  child — my  Alan  !"  she  whispered,  harrowing  his  very 
soul  beneath  that  voice's  thrilling  woe.  "  Douglas,  hast  thou 
heard  ? — yes,  yes  ;  I  can  read  it  in  thine  awe  struck  face. 


168  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

This,  this  is  all  I  have  left  of  him,"  and  she  partly  drew  from 
her  bosom  the  clustering  ringlets  he  recognized  at  once  ;  "  yet, 
wherefore  should  I  mourn  him  :  he  is  happy.  Bid  his  mem- 
ory be  honored  among  ye ;  and  oh,  tell  the  sovereign  for 
whom  he  fell,  better  a  death  like  this  than  treachery  and 
shame." 

She  had  paused  as  fearing  observation,  but  perceiving  the 
attention  of  all  more  fixed  on  the  glittering  cavalcade  than  on 
herself,  she  placed  one  of  those  glossy  curls  in  the  young  earl's 
hand,  and  continued — 

"  Give  this  to  my  poor  Agnes,  with  her  mother's  blessing, 
and  bid  her  take  comfort,  bid  her  not  weep  and  mourn  for  me. 
A  prison,  even  death  is  preferable  now  to  life,  for  she  is  cared 
for.  I  trust  her  to  Sir  Nigel's  love  ;  I  know  that  he  will  tend 
her  as  a  brother  till  a  happier  hour  makes  her  all  his  own. 
Commend  me  to  my  sovereign,  and  tell  him,  might  I  choose  my 
path  again,  despite  its  anguish,  'twould  be  that  which  I  have 
trod.  And  now  farewell,  young  lord,  I  bless  thee  for  this 
meeting." 

"  Dominus  vobiscum  mea  filia,  et  vale,"  responded  the  sup- 
posed monk,  in  a  loud  voice,  for  he  had  only  time  to  assure  the 
countess  by  a  look  of  deep  sympathy  of  his  willingness  to  exe- 
cute her  simplest  wish,  and  hide  the  ringlet  in  his  bosom,  ere 
Hereford  turned  towards  him,  with  a  gaze  of  stern  inquiry. 
Ably  concealing  alike  his  emotion  and  the  expression  of  his 
countenance,  Douglas  evaded  discovery,  and  even  obtained  per- 
mission to  follow  the  litter  to  the  environs  of  the  town.  He 
did  so,  but  the  countess  addressed  him  not  again ;  and  it  was 
with  a  heart-sinking  despondency  he  had  turned  to  the  moun- 
tains, when  the  cavalcade  disappeared  from  his  view.  He  re- 
tained his  monkish  garb  till  he  entered  the  mountain  district, 
where  he  fell  in  with  his  two  companions,  and  they  proceeded, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  the  quarters  of  their  king. 

A  pause  of  horror  followed  his  narrative,  told  more  forcibly 
and  briefly  by  the  lips  of  Douglas  than  through  the  cooler  me- 
dium of  the  historian's  pen.  Stunned,  overwhelmed,  as  if  in- 
capable of  movement  or  speech,  though  sense  remained,  Agnes 
stood  insensible,  even  to  the  voice  of  Nigel,  whose  soothing 
accents  strove  to  whisper  peace ;  but  when  Douglas  placed  in 
her  cold  hand  the  raven  curls  she  knew  so  well,  when  tenderly 
yet  earnestly  he  repeated  her  mother's  words,  the  poor  girl 


THE   DATS   OF  BKTJCE.  169 

repeatedly  pressed  the  hair  to  her  parched  lips,  and  laid  it  in 
her  bosom ;  and  then  perceiving  the  sad  and  anxious  face  of 
her  beloved,  she  passed  her  hand  hurriedly  over  her  brow,  and 
burying  her  head  on  his  breast,  sense  was  preserved  by  an 
agony  of  tears. 

It  was  long,  long  ere  this  aggravated  wretchedness  was 
calmed,  though  the  love  of  many,  the  devotion  of  one  were 
ever  round  her  to  strengthen  and  console.  Sjunpathy,  the  most 
heartfelt,  reigned  in  every  bosom.  Of  the  many  misfortunes 
which  had  befallen  this  patriot  band,  this  seemed,  if  not  really 
the  severest,  more  fraught  with  horror  than  any  which  had 
come  before ;  the  youth,  the  gallant  bearing,  the  endearing 
qualities  of  the  heir  of  Buchan  stood  forth  with  vivid  clearness 
in  the  memories  of  all,  and  there  were  times  when  they  felt  it 
could  not  be,  it  was  too  fearful ;  and  then  again,  the  too  cer- 
tain evidence  of  the  fact,  witnessed  as  it  had  been  by  one  of 
such  tried  truth  as  James  of  Douglas,  brought  conviction  too 
clearly  home,  and  the  sternest  warrior,  who  would  have  faced 
his  own  captivity  and  death  unmoved,  felt  no  shame  in  the 
dimness  which  gathered  in  his  eye  for  the  fearful  fate  of  the 
murdered  boy. 

In  King  Robert's  breast  these  emotions  obtained  yet  more 
powerful  dominion ;  again  did  remorse  distract  him,  and  there 
were  moments  of  darkness,  when  his  spirit  questioned  the  jus- 
tice of  the  Creator.  Why  was  not  his  crime  visited  on  his  own 
head  ?  Why  did  the  guiltless  and  unstained  fall  thus  around 
him,  and  he  remain  unharmed  ?  and  it  needed  all  the  elo- 
quence of  Nigel,  the  pious  reasonings  of  the  Abbot  of  Scone, 
to  convince  him  that,  dark  and  inscrutable  as  the  decrees  of 
Omnipotence  sometimes  seemed,  in  his  case  they  were  as  clear 
as  the  wisdom  from  which  they  sprung.  By  chastisement  he 
was  purified  ;  he  was  not  yet  fit  to  receive  the  reward  of  the 
righteous  waiting  on  death.  Destined  to  be  the  savior  of  his 
unhappy  country,  the  remorse  which  bowed  down  his  naturally 
haughty  spirit  was  more  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  his  God, 
more  beneficial  to  his  own  soul,  than  the  one  act  of  devoted- 
ness  included  in  a  brave  man's  death.  Robert  struggled  with 
his  despondency,  with  his  soul's  deep  grief,  known  as  it  was 
but  to  himself,  his  confessor,  and  his  young  brother;  he  felt  its 
encouragement  would  unnerve  him  for  his  destined  task.  Other 
imperative  matters  now  pressed  round  him,  and  by  presenting 

8 


170  THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE. 

fresh  and  increased  danger,  roused  his  energies  once  more  to 
their  wonted  action. 

The  winter  had  set  in  Avith  unexampled  severity,  overwhelm- 
ing snow-storms  filled  up  the  rude  paths  of  the  mountains,  till 
egress  and  ingress  appeared  impossible.  The  Earl  of  Athol 
himself,  who  had  been  the  inseparable  companion  of  the  Brace  in 
all  his  wanderings,  now  spoke  of  retiring,  and  passing  the  win- 
ter within  stone  walls,  urging  his  sovereign  with  earnest  elo- 
quence to  take  refuge  in  Ireland  till  the  spring,  when  they 
would  reassemble  under  arms,  and  perhaps  take  the  tyrant 
Edward  once  more  by  surprise. 

Bruce  knew  the  veteran  nobleman  too  well  to  attribute  this 
advice  to  any  motive  save  deep  interest  in  his  safety.  He  saw, 
too,  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  them  to  remain  as  they 
then  were,  without  serious  evils  alike  to  his  female  and  male 
companions ;  the  common  soldiers,  steady  and  firm  as  they  still 
continued  in  loyalty,  yet  were  continually  dispersing,  promising 
to  reassemble  in  the  spring,  but  declaring  that  it  was  useless  to 
think  of  struggling  against  the  English,  when  the  very  elements 
were  at  war  against  them.  With  a  sad  foreboding,  Robert 
saw,  and  communicated  to  his  devoted  wife  the  necessity  of 
their  separation.  He  felt  that  it  was  right  and  best,  and  there- 
fore he  resisted  all  her  tearful  entreaties  still  to  linger  by  his 
side ;  her  child  was  suffering,  for  her  tender  years  could  not 
bear  up  against  the  cold  and  the  want  of  proper  nourishment,  • 
and  yet  even  that  claim  seemed  less  to  the  mother's  heart  than 
the  vision  of  her  husband  enduring  increase  of  hardship  alone. 
Her  acquiescence  was  indeed  at  length  obtained,  but  dimmed 
by  many  very  bitter  tears. 

A  hasty  consultation  with  his  few  remaining  friends  speedily 
decided  the  Bruce's  plans.  The  castle  of  Kildrummie,  a  strong 
fortress  situated  at  the  head  of  the  Don,  in  Aberdeenshire,  yet 
remained  to  him,  and  thither,  under  the  escort  of  his  brother 
Nigel  and  three  hundred  men,  the  king  determined  to  send  his 
wife  and  child,  and  the  other  ladies  of  his  court.  Himself,  his 
three  brothers,  Edward,  Alexander,  and  Thomas,  Douglas,  Sir 
Kiel  Campbell,  and  his  remaining  two  hundred  followers,  re- 
solved on  cautiously  making  their  way  southward  across  Loch 
Lomond,  and  proceed  thence  to  the  coast  of  Ireland,  there  to 
await  the  spring.  In  pursuance  of  this  plan,  Sir  Niel  Camp- 
bell was  dispatched  without  delay  to  conciliate  Angus,  Lord  of 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  171 

the  Isles,  to  whom  Cantire  then  belonged.  Knowing  he  was 
unfriendly  to  his  near  neighbors,  the  Lords  of  Lorn,  the  king 
trusted  he  should  find  in  him  a  powerful  ally.  To  appeal  yet 
more  strongly  to  the  chivalric  hospitality  which  characterized 
the  chieftain,  Sir  Niel  consented  that  his  wife  and  daughter 
Isoline  should  accompany  him.  Lady  Campbell  had  too  lately 
undergone  the  grief  and  anxiety  attendant  on  the  supposed  loss 
of  her  husband  to  consent  to  another  parting.  Even  the  king, 
her  brother,  sought  not  to  dissuade  her ;  but  all  persuasions  to 
induce  Agnes  to  accompany  them  were  vain  ;  bitter  as  the  pang 
of  separation  was  to  her  already  aching  heart — for  Lady  Camp- 
bell and  Isoline  were  both  most  dear  to  her — she  steadily  re- 
solved to  remain  with  the  queen  and  her  attendants,  and  thus 
share  the  fate  of  her  betrothed. 

"  Did  not  my  mother  commend  me  to  thy  care  ?  Did  she 
not  bid  thee  tend  me  as  a  brother  until  happier  hours,  and  shall 
I  seek  other  guardianship  than  thine,  my  Nigel?"  were  her 
whispered  words,  and  Nigel  could  not  answer  them.  So  pure, 
so  unselfish  was  her  love,  that  though  he  felt  his  happiness 
would  have  departed  with  her  presence,  could  he  have  com- 
manded words  he  would  have  implored*  her  to  seek  the  hospi- 
tality of  the  Lord  of  the  Isles  as  a  securer  home  than  Kildrum- 
mie.  Those  forebodings  already  alluded  to  had  returned  with 
darker  weight  from  the  hour  his  separation  from  his  brother 
was  resolved  on.  He  evinced  no  sign  of  his  inward  thoughts, 
he  uttered  no  word  of  dissent,  for  the  trust  reposed  in  him  by 
his  sovereign  was  indeed  as  precious  as  it  was  honorable ;  but 
there  was  a  mournful  expression  on  his  beautiful  countenance — 
when  unobserved,  it  would  rest  upon  his  brother — that  Agnes 
could  not  define,  although  it  filled  her  spirit  with  incomprehen- 
sible alarm,  and  urged  her  yet  more  to  abide  by  his  side. 

The  dreaded  day  arrived  at  length,  and  agonized  was  indeed 
that  parting.  Cheerfully  the  king  looked,  and  hopefully  he 
spoke,  but  it  had  no  power  to  calm  the  whelming  tide  of  sor- 
row in  which  his  wife  clung  to  his  embrace.  Again  and  again 
she  returned  to  that  faithful  heart  which  bore  so  fondly,  so  for- 
bearingly,  with  all  her  faults  and  weaknesses ;  and  Margory, 
although  she  could  not  comprehend  the  extent  of  sorrow  ex- 
perienced by  her  mother,  wept  bitterly  at. her  side.  Nor  were 
they  the  only  sufferers.  Some  indeed  were  fortunate  enough 
to  have  relatives  amid  the  band  which  accompanied  them  to 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

Kildrummie,  but  by  far  the  greater  number  clung  to  the  neckg 
of  brothers,  fathers,  husbands,  whose  faithful  and  loving  com- 
panions they  had  been  so  long — clung  to  them  and  wept,  as 
if  a  long  dim  vista  of  sorrow  and  separation  stretched  before 
them.  Danger,  indeed,  was  around  them,  and  the  very  fact 
of  their  being  thus  compelled  to  divide,  appeared  to  heighten 
the  perils,  and  tacitly  acknowledge  them  as  too  great  to  be 
endured. 

With  pain  and  difficulty  the  iron-souled  warriors  at  length 
tore  themselves  from  the  embrace  of  those  they  held  most 
dear.  The  knights  and  their  followers  had  closed  round  the 
litters,  and  commenced  their  march.  No  clarion  sent  its  shrill 
blast  on  the  mountain  echoes,  no  inspiring  drum  reverberated 
through  the  glens — all  was  mournfully  still ;  as  the  rudest 
soldier  revered  the  grief  he  beheld,  and  shrunk  from  disturbing 
it  by  a  sound. 

King  Robert  stood  alone,  on  the  spot  where  Sir  Christopher 
Seaton  had  borne  from  him  his  wife  and  child.  His  eyes  still 
watched  their  litter ;  his  thoughts  still  lingered  with  them 
alone  ;  full  of  affection,  anxiety,  sadness,  they  were  engrossed, 
but  not  defined.  He  was  aroused  by  the  sudden  appearance 
of  his  younger  brother,  who,  bareheaded,  threw  himself  at  his 
feet,  and,  in  a  voice  strangely  husky,  murmured — 

"  My  sovereign,  my  brother,  bless  me,  oh,  bless  me,  ere  we 
part !" 

"  My  blessing — the  blessing  of  one  they  deem  accursed ;  and 
to  thee,  good,  noble,  stainless  as  thou  art !  Nigel,  Nigel,  do  not 
mock  me  thus,"  answered  the  king,  bitterness  struggling  with 
the  deepest  melancholy,  as  he  laid  his  hand,  which  strangely 
trembled,  on  the  young  man's  lowered  head.  "  Alas !  bring  I 
not  evil  and  misery  and  death  on  all  who  love  me  ?  What, 
what  may  my  blessing  bring  to  thee  ?" 

"  Joy,  bright  joy  in  the  hour  of  mirth  and  comfort ;  oh, 
untold-of  comfort  in  the  time  of  sorrow,  imprisonment,  death ! 
My  brother,  my  brother,  oh,  refuse  it  not ;  thou  knowest  not, 
thou  canst  not  know  how  Nigel  loves  thee !" 

Robert  gazed  at  him  till  every  thought,  every  feeling  was 
lost  in  the  sudden  sensation  of  dread  lest  ill  should  come  to 
him  ;  it  had  overtaken  one  as  fair  in  promise,  as  beloved,  and 
yet  younger ;  and  oh,  if  death  selected  the  best,  the  loveliest, 
the  dearest,  would  it  next  fall  on  him  ?  The  thought  was  such 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  173 

X 

absolute  agony,  that  the  previous  suffering  of  that  hour  was 
lost  before  it. 

"  Bless  thee — oh,  may  God  in  heaven  bless  thee,  my  brave, 
my  noble  Nigel !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  burst  of  emotion,  per- 
fectly appalling  in  one  generally  so  controlled,  and  raising  him, 
he  strained  him  convulsively  to  his  heart.  "  Yet  why  should 
we  part  ?"  he  added,  after  a  long  pause  ;  "  why  did  I  fix  on 
thee  for  this  office — are  there  not  others  ?  Nigel,  Nigel,  say 
but  the  word,  and  thou  shalt  rest  with  me :  danger,  privation, 
exile  we  have  borne,  and  may  still  share  together.  Why  should 
I  send  thee  from  me,  dearest,  most  beloved  of  all  who  call  me 
brother  ?" 

"  Why  ?"  answered  Nigel,  raising  his  glistening  eyes  from 
his  brother's  shoulder,  "  why,  dear  Robert  ?  because  thine  eye 
could  read  my  heart  and  trust  it ;  because  thou  knewest  I 
would  watch  over  those  who  bear  thy  name,  who  are  dear  to 
thee,  even  as  thy  noble  self.  Oh,  do  not  repent  thee  of  thy 
choice  ;  'tis  hard  to  bear  alone  danger,  so  long  encountered 
hand  in  hand,  yet  as  thou  hast  decided  let  it  be.  Thy  words 
have  soothed  my  yearning  heart,  which  craved  to  list  thy  voice 
once  more  ;  and  now  then,  my  noble  liege  and  brother,  fare- 
well. Think  on  thy  Nigel's  words  ;  even  when  misery  is  round 
thee  thou  shalt,  thou  shalt  be  blessed.  Think  on  them,  my 
Robert,  and  then  when  joy  and  liberty  and  conquest  crown 
thee,  oh,  forget  not  Nigel." 

He  threw  his  arms  around  him,  imprinted  a  fervent  kiss 
on  his  cheek,  and  was  out  of  sight  ere  the  king  by  sign  or 
word  could  arrest  his  progress.  One  hasty  bound  forward 
Robert  indeed  made,  but  a  dimness  stole  over  his  sight,  and 
for  one  brief  minute  he  sunk  down  on  the  grass,  and  when  he 
lifted  his  head  again,  there  were  burning  tears  upon  his  cheek. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  hardships  and  dangers  attendant  on  King  Robert's 
progress  southward,  mingled  as  they  were  with  the  very  spirit 
of  romance,  are  so  well  known  to  every  reader  of  Scottish 
history  that  they  must  be  excluded  from  our  pages,  although 


174:  THE   DATS   OF   BRUCE. 

a  tale  of  chivalry  would  seem  the  very  place  for  thoir  in- 
sertion. 

The  life  of  no  hero,  no  sovereign,  no  general,  presents  us 
with  a  parallel  to  the  lone  and  dreary  passage  of  Loch  Lomond. 
We  hear  of  an  ancient  and  a  modern  Hannibal  crossing  the 
snowy  Alps,  but  it  was  at  the  head  of  triumphant  armies  ;  it 
was  carrying  war  and  victory  into  an  enemy's  land,  and  there 
was  glory  in  the  danger — the  glory  and  pride  of  successful 
ambition.  But  there  was  greater  and  truer  heroism  in  the 
spirit  which  struggled  on  when  the  broad,  deep  waters  of  Loch 
Lomond  lay  between  them  and  comparative  safety  ;  when  'mid 
falling  snow  and  howling  winds  he  cheered  his  drooping  and 
exhausted  followers  by  reading  aloud  a  spirit-stirring  romance, 
to  which  they  listened  en  wrapt  and  charmed,  little  imagining 
their  own  situation  was  one  of  far  greater  peril,  of  more  ex- 
citing romance  than  any  which  the  volume  so  vividly  de- 
scribed. A  leaky  boat,  which  scarcely  allowed  three  men  to 
cross  in  safety,  was  their  only  means  of  conveyance,  and  a 
day  and  night  passed  ere  the  two  hundred  followers  of  the 
Bruce  assembled  on  the  opposite  side.  The  cheerful  blast  of 
his  bugle,  which  sounded  to  form  them  in  bands  before  him 
on  the  beach,  was  answered  by  one  whose  unexpected  ap- 
pearance occasioned  such  joy  to  the  heart  of  the  king,  that 
the  exertions  both  of  body  and  mind  of  the  last  few  hours 
were  forgotten.  It  was  the  Earl  of  Lennox,  who  since  the 
fatal  battle  of  Methven  had  been  numbered  amongst  the  dead, 
and  lamented  by  his  royal  master  with  grief  as  deep  as  the 
joy  was  exceeding  which  greeted  him  again.  Mutual  was  the 
tale  of  suffering  each  had  to  relate,  few  and  faint  the  hopes 
and  prospects  to  communicate,  but  so  many  were  the  friends 
the  patriots  had  lost,  that  the  reappearance  of  the  venerable 
nobleman  infused  a  new  and  brighter  spirit  amid  the  almost 
despairing  men. 

That  the  Earl  of  Lennox  had  found  a  kind  and  hospitable 
home  in  the  dominions  of  the  Lord  of  the  Isles,  and  received 
welcome  and  favor  from  the  chieftain  himself,  was  justly  a  sub- 
ject of  rejoicing  to  the  fugitive  king.  Guided  by  him,  the 
intricacies  of  their  path  were  smoothed,  and  they  reached  their 
destination  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  would  otherwise  have 
been  the  case.  Sir  Niel  Campbell  had  performed  his  mission 
well,  and  kindness  and  truth  so  long  unknown,  now  eagerly 


THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE.  175 

opened  their  hearths  and  hearts  to  the  patriot  king.  Scorning 
alike  the  Scottish  and  English  authority,  Angus,  Lord  of  the 
Isles,  had  formed  an  independent  sovereignty,  and  now  felt 
pride  in  receiving  in  his  territories  the  only  sovereign  he  had 
felt  inclination  to  revere.  The  daring  heroism,  the  unshaken 
spirit  of  the  Bruce,  were  akin  to  his  own  wild  and  reckless 
courage,  and  had  there  been  no  actual  claim  and  right  in 
Robert's  pretensions  to  the  crown,  Angus  would  still  have 
declared  that  he,  and  he  alone,  was  the  sovereign  worthy  to 
assume  it.  All,  then,  of  state  and  dignity  which  he  could 
assemble  round  him  were  proffered  to  the  king,  and  had  there 
been  less  generosity,  less  chivalric  honor  in  his  character  King 
Robert  might  have  passed  the  winter  months  in  comparative 
security  and  comfort. 

Angus  indeed  spoke  daringly  and  slightly  of  the  English 
force,  and  had  his  inmost  soul  been  read,  would  have  joyed 
had  they  ventured  to  attack  him,  that  he  might  show  his 
skill  and  bravery  in  resisting  and  defending  against  their  united 
force  the  sovereign  who  had  confided  in  his  gallantry  and 
honor ;  but  Robert  knew  better  than  the  rude  chieftain  the 
devastating  warfare  which  characterized  Edward's  efforts  at 
subjection,  and  his  whole  soul  shrunk  from  exposing  Angus 
and  his  true-hearted  followers  to  the  utter  ruin  which,  if  he 
were  once  known  to  be  amongst  them,  would  inevitably  ensue. 
At  once  to  secure  his  personal  concealment,  and  yet  to  with- 
draw from  Cantire  without  in  any  way  offending  the  high  spirit 
of  the  island  chieftain,  Bruce  resolved  on  making  the  little  island 
of  Rathlin  the  winter  refuge  of  himself  and  his  two  hundred 
followers. 

Inhabited  by  the  MacDonalds,  who  were  of  course  subject 
to  their  general  chief,  though  divided  from  him  by  the  channel, 
Bruce  was  still  under  the  generous  protection  of  his  friend, 
and  therefore  Angus  could  bring  forward  no  objection  to  the 
proposal,  save  the  miserable  poverty,  the  many  discomforts  of 
the  barren  islet,  and  entreat  with  all  his  natural  eloquence  that 
King  Robert  would  still  remain  in  the  peninsula.  The  argu- 
ments of  the  king,  however,  prevailed.  A  small  fleet,  better 
manned  than  built,  was  instantly  made  ready  for  his  service, 
and  Angus  himself  conveyed  the  king  in  his  own  galley  to  his 
destined  residence.  The  aspect  of  the  island,  the  savage  ap- 
pearance and  manner  of  its  inhabitants  were  indeed  such  as  to 


176  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

strike  despondingly  and  painfully  on  the  hearts  of  any  less 
inured  to  suffering  than  King  Robert  and  his  devoted  adherents. 
To  them  it  was  welcome,  for  they  justly  felt  the  eye  of  Edward 
could  scarcely  reach  them  there.  It  was  a  painful  alternative 
to  warrior  spirits  such  as  theirs  that  the  safety  of  their  country 
depended  on  their  inaction  and  concealment ;  yet  as  their  king, 
their  patriot  king,  was  still  amongst  them,  there  was  much, 
much  to  hope  and  cherish  still.  That  their  gentler  friends  anrf 
relatives  were,  they  hoped  and  believed,  in  a  place  of  safety, 
was  a  matter  of  rejoicing,  though  neither  entreaty  nor  com- 
mand could  persuade  the  Lady  Campbell  and  her  daughtei 
Isoline  to  accept  the  proffered  hospitality  of  the  island  chief- 
tain. It  was  nothing  to  them  that  they  were  the  only  females 
'mid  that  warrior  train,  that  many  hardships  were  around  them 
still.  Neither  Sir  Niel  nor  the  king  could  resist  their  pleadings, 
and  ere  the  sun  of  spring  had  shed  its  influence  on  the  heart 
of  man  as  well  as  the  hardened  earth,  there  were  many  who 
mourned  that  a  separation  had  taken  place,  who  wished  that 
fatigue  and  anxiety  had  still  been  met  together. 

Many  weeks  before  King  Robert  retreated  to  the  island  of 
Rathlin,  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  had  conducted  his  precious  charge  in 
safety  to  the  castle  of  Kildrummie,  whose  feeble  garrison  gladly 
flung  open  their  gates  to  receive  them. 

It  was  a  strong  fortress  situated  on  a  circular  mount,  over- 
hanging the  river  Don,  which  at  that  point  ever  rushed  darkly 
and  stormily  along ;  the  mount,  though  not  steep,  was  full  two 
miles  in  circumference,  from  base  to  brow  occupied  by  the  cas- 
tle, which  was  erected  in  that  massive  yet  irregular  form  pecu- 
liar to  the  architecture  of  the  middle  ages.  A  deep,  broad  moat 
or  fosse,  constantly  supplied  by  the  river,  defended  the  castle 
wall,  which  ran  round  the  mound,  irregularly  indeed,  for  there 
were  indentations  and  sharp  angles,  occasioned  by  the  uneven 
ground,  each  of  which  was  guarded  by  a  strong  turret  or  tow- 
er, rising  from  the  wall.  The  wall  itself  was  some  four-and- 
twenty  feet  in  height,  and  nine  in  thickness,  consequently  the 
spaces  between  the  turrets  on  the  top  of  the  wall  formed  broad 
level  platforms,  which  in  case  of  a  siege  were  generally  kept 
strongly  guarded.  Facing  the  east,  and  commanding  a  view 
of  the  river  and  adjacent  country,  stood  the  barbacan  gate  and 
drawbridge,  which  latter  was  further  defended  by  strong  oaken 
doors  and  an  iron  portcullis,  forming  the  great  gate  of  the  cas- 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  177 

tie  wall,  and  the  principal  entrance  into  the  fortress.  Two 
towers  of  immense  strength,  united  by  a  narrow,  dimly-lighted 
passage,  guarded  this  gate,  and  on  these  depended  the  grate  or 
portcullis,  which  was  lowered  or  raised  by  internal  machinery. 
Within  the  castle  wall  was  the  outer  ballium  or  court,  contain- 
ing some  small,  low-roofed  dwellings,  the  residence  of  many 
feudal  retainers  of  the  baron.  A  rude  church  or  chapel  was 
also  within  this  court,  holding  a  communication  with  the  keep 
or  principal  part  of  the  castle  by  means  of  a  passage  in  the  third 
wall,  which  divided  the  ballium  from  the  inner  court.  In  very 
large  castles  there  were  in  general  a  second  fosse,  wall,  gate, 
and  towers  guarding  the  keep,  and  thus  making  a  complete  di- 
vision between  it  and  the  ballium ;  but  the  original  owners  of 
Kildrummie,  less  rich  and  powerful  suzerains  than  their  equals 
in  South  Britain,  were  probably  contented  with  merely  a  stout 
wall  to  divide  their  own  sovereign  residence  from  their  more 
plebeian  followers.  The  keep  itself,  constructed  like  all  other 
similar  buildings  of  the  age,  was  a  massive  tower,  covering  but 
a  small  square,  and  four  or  five  stories  high.  There  were  at- 
tempts at  luxury  in  the  chambers  within,  but  to  modern  taste 
the  Norman  luxury  was  little  better  than  rudeness  ;  and  cer- 
tainly though  the  cushions  were  soft  and  richly  embroidered, 
the  arras  in  some  of  the  apartments  splendid  specimens  of  nee- 
dlework, and  the  beautifully  carved  and  often  inlaid  oaken  walls 
of  others,  gave  evidence  of  both  taste  and  talent,  yet  the  dim 
light  seemed  to  shed  a  gloom  and  heaviness  over  the  whole 
range  of  rooms  and  passages,  which  no  skill  of  workmanship  or 
richness  of  material  could  remove.  The  windows  were  invaria- 
bly small,  and  very  long  and  narrow,  and  set  in  walls  of  such 
huge  thickness,  that  the  sun  had  barely  power  even  in  his  sum- 
mer splendor,  to  penetrate  the  dusky  panes.  In  this  keep  was 
the  great  hall  of  audience,  and  for  the  banquet,  at  the  upper 
end  of  which  the  dais  was  invariably  found,  and  dark  and  loath- 
some dungeons  formed  its  basement. 

The  roof  of  Kildrummie  keep  was  flatter  than  the  generality 
of  Norman  castles,  its  four  angles  being  surmounted  more  by 
the  appearance  than  the  reality  of  turrets ;  but  one  rose  from 
the  centre,  round,  and  pierced  by  loopholes,  turreted  at  the  top, 
and  commanding  an  extensive  view  of  the  adjoining  country : 
from  this  tower  the  banner  of  the  baron  always  waved,  and  its 
non-appearance  excited  some  indignation  in  the  breast  of  Nigel 

8* 


178  THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.    - 

Bruce,  for  his  warrior  spirit  had  no  sympathy  with  that  timor- 
ous excuse,  that  did  it  wave  at  such  a  time  it  might  excite  the 
attention  of  the  English,  whereas  did  it  elevate  no  symbol  of 
defiance  its  garrison  might  pass  unquestioned. 

"  Up  with  the  banner  of  Scotland  and  the  Bruce  !"  were  the 
first  commands  of  Sir  Nigel,  as  he  stood  within  the  ballium, 
surrounded  by  his  charge  and  followers.  "  Shall  we,  pledged 
as  we  are  to  our  country  and  king,  even  seem  to  stand  neutral 
and  conceal  our  colors,  as  ashamed  of  them  ?  Shall  this  be  ?" 

He  was  answered  by  a  simultaneous  rush  towards  the  keep, 
and  at  his  word  the  folds  of  the  broad  banner  waved  exultingly 
from  the  tower,  its  appearance  hailed  by  a  loud  shout  from  those 
beneath,  and  by  a  bright  and  momentary  gleam  of  sunshine 
flashing  through  the  heavy  clouds. 

"  Ha !  see  ye,  my  friends,  even  heaven  smiles  on  us,"  exclaim- 
ed the  young  knight  triumphantly,  and  smiling  cheerily  on  his 
fair  friends,  as  with  gay  words  and  graceful  action  he  marshal- 
led them  into  the  keep.  It  was  while  doing  so,  that  Agnes 
marked  the  figure  of  an  old  yet  majestic-looking  man,  whose 
eyes,  still  bright  and  flashing,  though  his  white  hair  denoted  ex- 
treme old  age,  were  fixed  immovably  on  the  face"  and  form  of 
Nigel.  It  was  a  peculiar  glance,  strained,  eager,  and  yet  mourn- 
ful, holding  her  attention  so  fascinated  that  she  paused  in  her 
onward  way,  and  pointed  him  out  to  Nigel. 

"  I  know  him  not,  love,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  her  inquiry. 
"  I  should  deem  him  minstrel  by  his  garb,  or  seer,  or  both  per- 
chance, as  is  sometimes  the  case,  conjoined.  I  will  speak  with 
him  when  my  present  grateful  task  is  done." 

But  it  was  the  next  morning  ere  he  had  the  opportunity  of 
doing  so,  for  much  devolved  on  the  young  seneschal.  He  had 
to  visit  the  outworks,  the  stores,  the  offices,  to  give  multitudi- 
nous orders,  and  receive  various  intelligences,  to  review  the  pres- 
ent garrison  and  his  own  followers,  and  assign  to  each  his  post ; 
and  though  ably  aided  by  Sir  Christopher  Seaton  and  other  of 
his  officers,  all  this  occupied  much  time.  The  outworks  he  found 
in  excellent  condition ;  the  barbacan,  of  massive  stone,  seemed 
well  enabled  to  resist  attack,  should  it  be  made ;  the  machinery 
of  the  drawbridge  was  in  good  order,  and  enabled  to  be  drawn 
up  or  let  down  at  a  moment's  warning.  The  stores  and  grana- 
ries, which  were  contained  in  the  towers  on  the  castle  wall,  were 
very  amply  provided,  though  Nigel,  taking  advantage  of  the 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  179 

present  peaceful  temper  of  the  country,  dispatched  trusty  mes- 
sengers without  delay  for  further  supplies.  That  this  fortress, 
almost  the  only  one  remaining  to  his  brother,  would  remain  un- 
molested, Nigel  did  not  for  one  moment  believe,  but  he  did  hope 
that,  in  case  of  a  siege,  if  amply  provided  with  stores,  it  might 
hold  out  till  the  intense  cold  of  the  season  and  climate  would 
turn  the  besiegers  from  their  purpose ;  at  all  events,  the  advan- 
cing winter  would  be  more  favorable  to  the  besieged  than  the 
besiegers,  and  though  the  garrison  was  comparatively  small,  the 
place  itself  was  of  such  great  strength  as  to  guarantee  the  in- 
dulgence of  his  hopes.  That  the  original  garrison  were  too  tim- 
orous and  wavering  for  him  to  place  much  dependence  on  them 
he  readily  perceived,  but  he  trusted  much  to  the  beneficial  in- 
fluence which  his  own  steady,  true-hearted  followers  might  be 
enabled  to  infuse. 

Nigel  was  young,  brave,  and  animated  by  every  feeling  which 
inspires  courage  and  hope  in  the  buoyant  heart  of  youth.  The 
gloom  which  had  oppressed  him  in  parting  with  his  brother, 
and  indeed  had  partially  clouded  his  spirit  during  their  rapid 
journey,  vanished  before  the  duties  and  responsibilities  which 
thronged  round  him,  now  that  he  felt  himself  the  guard  and 
seneschal  of  the  castle  intrusted  to  his  charge ;  now  that  new 
duties  devolved  on  him,  duties  particularly  dear  to  a  young  and 
gallant  spirit  like  his  own ;  duties,  too,  that  bound  him  closer 
and  closer  with  the  gentle  being  in  whose  welfare  and  happi- 
ness his  own  were  shrined.  It  was  with  a  bright  smile,  then, 
and  animated  brow  he  joined  his  Agnes  early  the  following 
morning,  in  a  stroll  through  a  small  woody  inclosure  dignified 
by  the  name  of  garden,  which  occupied  part  of  the  inner  court. 
The  old  minstrel  who  had  so  attracted  the  attention  of  Agnes 
was  there  before  them.  He  stood  against  a  projecting  buttress, 
his  arms  folded,  his  eyes  fixed,  it  seemed  on  vacancy,  and  evi- 
dently not  aware  he  was  approached  till  Nigel  spoke. 

"  Good  morrow,  father.  I  thought  we  had  been  the  earliest 
to  greet  this  fresh  and  frosty  air,  save  those  on  guard,  yet  you 
are  before  us.  Nay,  wherefore  doff  thy  cap,  good  father? 
The  air  is  somewhat  too  frosty  for  thy  silvered  head." 

"  I  cannot  doff  it  to  a  nobler,  gentle  youth,"  answered  the 
old  man,  courteously,  "  save  to  my  sovereign's  self ;  and  as  his 
representative,  I  pay  willing  homage  to  his  brother." 

"  Ha !  dost  thou  know  me,  father  ?     And  was  it  because  I 


180  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

am  King  Robert's  brother  thine  eyes  so  rested  on  me  yesier 
morn,  mournfully,  me  thought,  as  if  the  joy  with  which  I  hailed 
the  gleam  of  sunshine  smiling  on  our  banner  had  little  echo  in 
thy  breast  ?" 

"  Not  that,  not  that,"  answered  the  old  man,  tremulously ; 
"  I  scarce  remarked  it,  for  my  thoughts  were  in  that  future 
which  is  sometimes  given  me  to  read.  I  saw  thee,  noble  youth, 
but  'twas  not  here.  Dim  visions  come  across  my  waking  hours  ; 
it  is  not  well  to  note  them,"  and  he  turned  away  as  if  he  might 
not  meet  those  eager  eyes. 

"  Not  here !  yet  I  was  at  his  side,  good  father,"  and  Agnes 
laid  her  fair  hand  on  the  old  man's  arm. 

"Thou  wert,  thou  wert,  my  child.  Beautiful,  beautiful!" 
he  half  whispered,  as  he  laid  his  hand  dreamily  on  those  golden 
curls,  and  looked  on  her  face ;  "  yet  hath  sorrow  touched  thee, 
maiden.  Thy  morn  of  life  hath  been  o'erclouded ;  its  shadow 
lingers  yet." 

"  Too  truly  speakest  thou,  father,"  replied  Nigel,  drawing 
Agnes  closer  to  his  heart,  for  tears  were  starting  in  her  eyes ; 
"  yet  will  not  love  soon  chase  that  sorrow  ?  Thou  who  canst 
penetrate  the  future,  seer  of  the  Bruce's  line,  tell  me,  shall  she 
not  be  mine  ?" 

The  old  man  looked  on  them  both,  and  then  his  eyes  became 
fixed  on  vacancy ;  long  and  painfully  once  or  twice  he  passed 
bis  hand  across  his  high,  pale  brow. 

"  Vain,  vain,"  he  said,  sadly  ;  "  but  one  vision  comes  to  mine 
aching  sight,  and  there  she  seems  thine  own.  She  is  thine 
own — but  I  know  not  how  that  will  be.  Ask  me  no  more ; 
the  dream  is  passing.  'Tis  a  sad  and  fearful  gift.  Others  may 
triumph  in  the  power,  but  for  me  'tis  sad,  'tis  very  sad." 

"  Sad !  nay,  is  it  not  joy,  the  anticipating  joy,"  answered 
Nigel,  with  animation,  "  to  look  on  a  beloved  one,  and  mark, 
amid  the  clouds  of  distance,  glory,  and  honor,  and  love  entwining 
on  his  path  ?  to  look  through  shades  of  present  sorrow,  and 
discern  the  sunbeam  afar  off — is  there  not  joy  in  this  ?" 

"  Aye,  gentle  youth ;  but  now,  oh,  now  is  there  aught  in 
Scotland  to  whisper  these  bright  things  ?  There  was  rejoicing, 
and  glory,  and  triumph  around  the  patriot  Wallace.  Scotland 
sprung  from  her  sluggish  sleep,  and  gave  back  her  echo  to  his 
inspiring  call.  I  looked  upon  the  hero's  beaming  brow,  I  met 
the  sparkle  of  his  brilliant  eye,  I  bowed  before  the  native  ma- 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  181 

jesty  of  his  god-like  form,  but  there  was  no  joy  for  me.  Dark 
masses  of  clouds  closed  round  the  present  sunshine ;  the  present 
fled  like  a  mist  before  them,  and  they  oped,  and  then — there 
was  still  Wallace ;  but  oh!  how  did  I  see  him? 'the  scaffold, 
the  cord,  the  mocking  crowds,  the  steel-clad  guards — all,  all, 
even  as  he  fell.  My  children !  my  children !  was  there  joy  in 
this  ?" 

There  was  a  thrilling  pathos  in  the  old  man's  voice  that 
touched  the  very  heart  of  his  listeners.  Agnes  clung  closer  to 
the  arm  of  her  betrothed,  and  looked  up  tearfully  in  his  face ; 
his  cheek  was  very  pale,  and  his  lip  slightly  quivered.  There 
was  evidently  a  desire  to  speak,  to  utter  some  inquiry,  but  he 
looked  on  that  sweet  face  upturned  to  his,  and  the  unspoken 
words  died  in  an  inarticulate  murmur  on  his  lips. 

"  My  brother,"  he  said,  at  length,  and  with  some  difficulty, 
though  it  was  evident  from  the  expression  of  his  countenance 
this  was  not  the  question  he  had  meant  to  ask,  "  my  noble 
brother,  will  thy  glorious  struggles,  thy  persevering  valor,  end 
in  this  ?  No,  no,  it  cannot  be.  Prophet  and  seer,  hast  thou 
e'er  gazed  on  him — him,  the  hope,  the  joy,  the  glory  of  the 
line  of  Bruce  ?  Hast  thou  gazed  on  him,  and  was  there  no 
joy  there  ?" 

"  Yes !"  answered  the  old  man,  starting  from  his  posture  of 
despondency,  and  raising  his  hands  with  animated  fervor,  while 
his  cheek  flushed,  and  his  eyes,  fixed  on  distance,  sparkled  with 
all  the  fire  of  youth.  "  Yes !  I  have  gazed  upon  that  face, 
and  in  present  and  in  future  it  is  glorious  still.  Thick  mists 
have  risen  round  him,  well-nigh  concealing  him  within  their 
murky  folds,  but  still,  still  as  a  star  penetrating  through  cloud, 
and  mist,  and  space,  till  it  sees  its  own  bright  semblance  in  the 
ocean  depths,  so  has  that  brow,  circled  by  its  diadem  of  free- 
dom, gleamed  back  upon  mine  aching  sight,  and  I  have  seen 
and  known  there  is  joy  for  Bruce  and  Scotland  yet !" 

"  Then  is  there  joy  for  all  true  Scottish  men;  good  father, 
and  so  will  we  chase  all  sadness  from  our  brows  and  hearts," 
replied  Nigel,  lightly.  "  Come,  tell  us  of  the  past,  and  not  the 
future,  while  we  stroll ;  thou  hast  traditions,  hast  thou  not,  to 
while  away  an  hour  ?" 

"Nay,  my  young  lord,"  replied  the  seer,  "hast  thou  not 
enough  in  the  present,  embodied  as  it  is  in  this  fair  maiden's 
dreaming  eye  and  loving  heart  ?  The  minstrel's  harp  and  ancient 


182  THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE. 

lore  are  for  the  evening  hour,  not  for  a  time  and  companion  such 
as  this,"  and  with  an  audible  blessing  he  turned  away,  leaving 
them  to  their  stroll  together. 

It  was  not,  however,  without  an  effort  Nigel  could  take  ad- 
vantage of  his  absence,  and  make  good  use  of  moments  so 
blissful  to  hearts  that  love.  There  was  something  in  the  old 
man's  mournful  tone  and  glance  when  it  rested  upon  him,  that 
answered  strangely  and  sadly  to  the  spirit-voice  breathing  in 
his  own  bold  breast.  It  seemed  to  touch  that  chord  indefinably, 
yet  felt  by  the  vibration  of  every  nerve  which  followed.  He 
roused  himself,  however,  and  ere  they  joined  the  morning  meal, 
there  was  a  brighter  smile  on  the  lip  and  heart  of  Agnes  than 
had  rested  there  for  many  a  long  day. 

For  a  few  weeks  there  was  peace  both  within  and  without 
the  castle  of  Kildrummie.  The  relief,  the  shelter  which  its 
walls  afforded  to  the  wearied  and  exhausted  wanderers  was  at 
first  felt  and  enjoyed  alone.  Many  of  the  frailer  sex  were  far 
too  exhausted  and  disabled  by  a  variety  of  sufferings,  to  be 
sensible  of  any  thing  but  that  greater  comforts  than  had  been 
theirs  for  many  painful  months  were  now  possessed  ;  but  when 
their  strength  became  partially  restored,  when  these  comforts 
became  sufficiently  familiar  to  admit  of  other  thoughts,  the 
queen's  fortitude  began  to  waver.  It  was  not  the  mere  im- 
pulse of  the  moment  which  caused  her  to  urge  her  accompany- 
ing her  husband,  on  the  plea  of  becoming  more  and  more 
unworthy  of  his  love  if  separated  from  him.  Margaret  of  Mar 
was  not  born  for  a  heroine ;  more  especially  to  act  on  such  a 
stormy  stage  as  Scotland.  Full  of  kindly  feeling,  of  affection, 
confidence,  gentleness,  one  that  would  have  drooped  and  died 
had  her  'doom  been  to  pass  through  life  unloved,  her  yielding 
mind  took  its  tone  and  coloring  from  those  with  whom  she  most 
intimately  associated ;  not  indeed  from  the  rude  and  evil,  for 
from  those  she  intuitively  shrunk.  Beneath  her  husband's  in- 
fluence, cradled  in  his  love,  her  spirit  received  and  cherished 
the  reflection  of  his  strength ;  of  itself,  she  too  truly  felt  it  had 
none ;  and  consequently  when  that  beloved  one  was  far  away, 
the  reflection  passed  from  her  mind  even  as  the  gleam  of  his 
armor  from  the  mirror  on  which  it  glanced,  and  Margaret  was 
weak  and  timorous  again.  She  had  thought,  and  hoped,  and 
prayed,  her  unfeigned  admiration  of  Isabella  of  Buchan,  her 
meek  and  beautiful  appreciation  of  those  qualities  and  candid 


THE  DATS  OF  BRUCE.  183 

acknowledgment  that  such  was  the  character  most  adapted  to 
her  warrior  husband,  would  bring  more  steadiness  and  courage 
to  her  own  woman  breast.  Alas  !  the  fearful  fate  which  had 
overtaken  the  heroic  countess  came  with  such  a  shock  to  the 
weaker  soul  of  Margaret,  that  if  she  had  obtained  any  increase 
of  courage,  it  was  at  once  annihilated,  and  the  desponding  fancy 
entered  her  mind  that  if  evil  reached  one  so  noble,  so  steadfast 
in  thought  and  in  action,  how  might  she  hope  to  escape  ;  and 
now,  when  weakened  and  depressed  alike  by  bodily  and  mental 
suffering,  such  fancies  obtained  so  much  possession  of  her  that 
she  became  more  and  more  restless.  The  exertions  of  Sir  Ni- 
gel and  his  companions,  even  of  her  own  friends,  failed  in  rous- 
ing or  infusing  strength.  Sometimes  it  was  vague  conjectures 
as  to  the  fate  of  her  husband,  the  dread  that  he  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  his  foes — a  catastrophe  which  not  only  herself  but 
many  stronger  minds  imagined  could  scarcely  be  avoided.  She 
would  dwell  on  these  fancies  till  suspense  became  intolerable ; 
and  then,  if  these  were  partially  calmed,  came  personal  fears : 
the  belief  that  if  attacked  the  castle  could  not  muster  force 
enough  for  defence ;  suspicions  of  treachery  in  the  garrison, 
and  other  symptoms  of  the  wavering  nature  of  her  mind,  till 
Sir  Nigel  felt  too  truly  that  if  danger  did  come  she  would  not 
stay  to  meet  it.  Her  wishes  ever  turned  to  the  sanctuary  of 
St.  Duthac  in  the  domains  of  the  Earl  of  Ross,  believing  the 
sanctity  of  the  place  would  be  more  effectual  protection  than 
the  strongest  castle  and  bravest  force.  In  vain  Sir  Nigel  re- 
monstrated, nay,  assured  her  that  the  fidelity  of  the  Lord  of 
Ross  was  impugned  ;  that  he  doubted  his  flattering  overtures  ; 
that  he  was  known  to  be  in  correspondence  with  England.  But 
he  spoke  in  vain — the  queen  persisted  in  trusting  him ;  that  he 
had  ever  been  a  friend  of  her  father  and  brother  the  Earls  of 
Mar,  and  he  would  be  faithful  to  her  interests  now.  Her  opin- 
ion weighed  with  many  of  the  ladies  of  her  court,  even  amongst 
those  who  were  not  affected  with  her  fears.  At  such  times 
Agnes  never  spoke,  but  there  was  a  calm,  quiet  determination 
in  her  expression  that  convinced  the  Lady  Seaton,  who  alone 
had  leisure  to  observe  her,  that  her  resolution  was  already  taken 
and  unalterable. 

All  that  could  be  done  to  calm  the  queen's  perturbed  spirits 
by  way  of  amusement  Sir  Nigel  did ;  but  his  task  was  not  an 
easy  one,  and  the  rumor  which  about  this  time  reached  him, 


184  THE  DAYS   OP   BRUCE. 

that  the  Earls  of  Hereford  and  Lancaster,  with  a  very  large 
force,  were  rapidly  advancing  towards  Aberdeenshire,  did  not 
lessen  its  difficulties.  He  sought  to  keep  the  information  as 
long  as  possible  from  all  his  female  charge,  although  the  ap- 
pearance of  many  terrified  villagers  flying  from  their  homes  to 
the  protection  of  the  ,castle  hardly  enabled  him  to  do  so,  and 
confirmed  without  doubt  the  truth  of  what  he  had  heard. 
Nigel  felt  the  moment  of  peril  was  approaching,  and  he  nerved 
both  mind  and  frame  to  meet  it.  The  weak  terrors  of  the 
queen  and  some  of  her  train  increased  with  every  rumor,  and, 
despite  every  persuasion  of  Sir  Nigel,  Seaton,  and  other  brave 
and  well-tried  warriors,  she  rested  not  till  a  negotiation  was 
entered  into  with  the  Earl  of  Ross  to  grant  them  a  safe  conduct 
through  his  lands,  and  permission  to  enter  the  sanctuary  of  St. 
Duthac. 

Perplexed  with  many  sad  thoughts,  Nigel  Bruce  was  one  day 
slowly  traversing  a  long  gallery  leading  to  some  uninhabited 
chambers  in  the  west  wing  of  the  building  ;  it  was  of  different 
architecture,  and  ruder,  heavier  aspect  than  the  remainder  of 
the  castle.  Tradition  said  that  those  rooms  had  been  the  ori- 
ginal building  inhabited  by  an  ancestor  of  the  line  of  Bruce, 
and  the  remainder  had  been  gradually  added  to  them ;  that 
some  dark  deed  of  blood  had  been  there  committed,  and  con- 
sequently they  were  generally  kept  locked,  none  of  the  vassals 
in  the  castle  choosing  to  run  the  risk  of  meeting  the  spirits 
which  they  declared  abode  there.  We  have  before  said  that 
Nigel  was  not  superstitious,  though  his  mind  being  of  a  cast 
which,  adopting  and  embodying  the  ideal,  he  was  likely  to  be 
supposed  such.  The  particulars  of  the  tradition  he  had  never 
heard,  and  consequently  it  was  always  with  a  smile  of  disbelief 
he  listened  to  the  oft-repeated  injunction  not  to  walk  at  dusk 
in  the  western  turret.  This  warning  came  across  him  now,  but 
his  mind  was  far  otherwise  engrossed,  too  much  so  indeed  for 
him  even  to  give  more  than  a  casual  glance  to  the  rude  portraits 
which  hung  on  either  side  the  gallery. 

He  mistrusted  the  Earl  of  Ross,  and  there  came  a  fear  upon 
his  noble  spirit  that,  in  permitting  the  departure  of  the  queen 
and  her  attendants,  he  .might  be  liable  to  the  censure  of  his 
sovereign,  that  he  was  failing  in  his  trust ;  yet  how  was  he  to 
act,  how  put  a  restraint  upon  his  charge  ?  Had  he  indeed  be- 
lieved that  the  defence  of  the  castle  would  be  successful,  that 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCK  185 

he  should  be  enabled  to  force  the  besiegers  to  raise  the  siege, 
he  might  perhaps  have  felt  justified  in  restraining  the  queen — 
but  he  did  not  feel  this.  He  had  observed  there  were  many 
discontented  and  seditious  spirits  in  the  castle,  not  indeed  in  the 
three  hundred  of  his  immediate  followers  ;  but  what  were  they 
compared  to  the  immense  force  now  pouring  over  the  country, 
and  whose  goal  he  knew  was  Kildrummie  ?  The  increase  of 
inmates  also,  from  the  number  of  small  villages  which  had 
emptied  their  inhabitants  into  his  walls  till  he  was  compelled  to" 
prevent  further  ingress,  must  inevitably  diminish  his  stores,  and 
when  once  blockaded,  to  replenish  them  would  be  impossible. 
No  personal  fears,  no  weakness  of  purpose  entered  the  high 
soul  of  Nigel  Bruce  amid  these  painful  cogitations.  He  well 
knew  no  shade  of  dishonor  could  fall  •  on  him ;  he  thought  not 
one  moment  of  his  own  fate,  although  if  the  castle  were  taken 
he  knew  death  awaited  him,  either  by  the  besieger's  sword  or 
the  hangman's  cord,  for  he  would  make  no  condition ;  he 
thought  only  that  this  was  well-nigh  the  last  castle  in  his 
brother's  keeping,  which,  if  lost,  would  in  the  present  depressed 
state  of  his  affairs  be  indeed  a  fatal  blow,  and  a  still  greater 
triumph  to  England. 

These  thoughts  naturally  engrossed  his  mind  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  imaginative  whisperings,  and  therefore  was  it  that  he 
drew  back  the  bolt  of  a  door  which  closed  the  passage,  without 
any  of  those  peculiar  feelings  that  at  a  less  anxious  time  might 
have  possessed  him ;  for  souls  less  gifted  than  that  of  Nigel 
Bruce  can  seldom  enter  a  spot  hallowed  by  tradition  without 
the  electric  thrill  which  so  strangely  unites  the  present  with  the 
past. 

It  was  a  chamber  of  moderate  dimensions  to  which  the  oaken 
door  admitted  him,  hung  with  coarse  and  faded  tapestry,  which, 
disturbed  by  the  wind,  disclosed  an  opening  into  another  pas- 
sage, through  which  he  pursued  his  way.  In  the  apartment 
on  which  the  dark  and  narrow  passage  ended,  however,  his 
steps  were  irresistibly  arrested.  It  was  panelled  with  black- 
oak,  of  which  the  floor  also  was  composed,  giving  the  whole  an 
aspect  calculated  to  infect  the  most  thoughtless  spirit  with 
gloom.  Two  high  and  very  narrow  windows,  the  small  panes 
of  which  were  quite  incrusted  with  dust,  were  the  only  conduct- 
ors of  light,  with  the  exception  of  a  loophole — for  it  could 
scarcely  be  dignified  by  the  name  of  casement — on  the  western 


186  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

side.  Through  this  loophole  the  red  light  of  a  declining  winter 
sun  sent  its  rays,  which  were  caught  and  stayed  on  what  seem- 
ed at  the  distance  an  antique  picture-frame.  Wondering  to 
perceive  a  picture  out  of  its  place  in  the  gallery,  Nigel  hastily 
advanced  towards  it,  pausing,  however,  on  his  way  to  examine, 
with  some  surprise,  one  of  the  planks  in  the  floor,  which,  in- 
stead of  the  beautiful  black  polish  which  age  had  rather  height- 
ened than  marred  in  the  rest,  was  rough  and  white,  with  all 
the  appearance  of  having  been  hewn  and  scraped  by  some 
sharp  instrument. 

It  is  curious  to  mark  how  trifling  a  thing  will  sometimes 
connect,  arrange,  and  render  clear  as  day  to  the  mind  all  that 
has  before  been  vague,  imperfect,  and  indistinct.  It  is  like  the 
touch  of  lightning  on  an  electric  chain,  link  after  link  starts  up 
till  we  see  the  illumined  whole.  We  have  said  Nigel  had  never 
heard  the  particulars  of  the  tradition;  but  he  looked  on  that 
misshapen  plank,  and  in  an  instant  a  tale  of  blood  and  terror 
weaved  itself  in  his  mind ;  in  that  room  the  deed,  whatever  it 
was,  had  been  done,  and  from  that  plank  the  sanguine  evidence 
of  murder  had  been  with  difficulty  erased.  A  cold  shuddering 
passed  over  him,  and  he  turned  instinctively  away,  and  strode 
hastily  to  examine  the  frame  which  had  attracted  him.  It  did 
contain  a  picture — we  should  rather  say  a  portrait — for  it  com- 
prised but  one  figure,  the  half-length  of  a  youthful  warrior, 
clad  in  steel,  save  the  beautifully-formed  head,  which  was  cov- 
ered only  by  his  own  luxuriant  raven  curls.  In  a  better  light 
it  could  not  have  been  placed,  particularly  in  the  evening ;  the 
rays,  condensed  and  softened,  seemed  to  gather  up  their  power 
into  one  focus,  and  throw  such  an  almost  supernatural  glow  on 
the  half  face,  give  such  an  extraordinary  appearance  of  life 
to  the  whole  figure,  that  a  casual  visitant  to  that  chamber 
might  well  fancy  it  was  no  picture  but  reality  on  which  he 
gazed.  But  no  such  emotion  was  at  work  in  the  bosom  of 
Nigel  Bruce,  though  his  first  glance  upon  that  face  occasioned 
an  almost  convulsive  start,  and  then  a  gaze  of  such  intense, 
such  almost  fearful  interest,  that  he  stood  as  if  fascinated  by 
some  overpowering  spell.  His  features,  worked  with  internal 
emotions,  flushed  and  paled  alternately.  It  was  no  weak- 
minded  terror  which  bound  him  there,  no  mood  in  which  a 
step  or  sound  could  chill  and  startle,  for  so  wrapt  was  he  in  his 
own  strange  dreams  that  he  heard  not  a  slow  and  measured 


THE  DATS  OF  BEUCE.  187 

step  approach  him  ;  he  did  not  even  start  when  he  felt  a  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  and  the  melodious  voice  of  the  seer  caused  him 
to  turn  slowly  around. 

"  The  warnings  thou  hast  heard  have  no  power  on  thee, 
young  lord,"  he  said,  slightly  smiling,  "  or  I  should  not  see 
thee  here  at  this  hour  alone.  Yet  thou  wert  strangely  wrapt." 

"  Knowest  thou  aught  of  him,  good  father  ?"  answered  Ni- 
gel, in  a  voice  that  to  his  own  ears  sounded  hoarse  and  unnat- 
ural, and  turning  his  glance  once  again  to  the  portrait.  "  My 
thoughts  are  busy  with  that  face  and  yon  tale-telling  plank ; 
there  are  wild,  feverish,  incongruous  dreams  within  me,  and  I 
would  have  them  solved.  Thou  of  all  others  art  best  fitted  to 
the  task,  for  amid  the  records  of  the  past,  where  thou  hast 
loved  to  linger,  thou  hast  surely  found  the  tradition  of  this 
tower.  I  shame  not  to  confess  there  is  in  my  heart  a  deep 
yearning  to  learn  the  truth.  Wherefore,  when  thy  harp  and 
song  have  so  pleasantly  whiled  the  evening  hours,  did  not  this 
tale  find  voice,  good  father?" 

"Alas!  my  son,  'tis  too  fraught  with  horror,  too  sad  for 
gentle  ears.  A  few  stern,  rugged  words  will  best  repeat  it. 
I  love  not  to  linger  on  the  theme ;  listen  then  now,  and  it  shall 
be  told  thee." 

"  In  the  reign  of  Malcolm  the  Second,  the  districts  now  called 
Aberdeen  and  Forfar  were  possessed,  and  had  been  so,  so  tra- 
dition saith,  since  Kenneth  MacAlpine,  by  the  Lords  of  Brus 
or  Bris,  a  family  originally  from  the  North.  They  were  largely 
and  nobly  connected,  particularly  with  Norway  and  Gaul.  It 
is  generally  supposed  the  first  possessions  in  Scotland  held  in 
fief  by  the  line  of  Bruce  can  be  traced  back  only  to  the  time 
of  David  I.,  in  the  person  of  Robert  de  Bruce,  an  Anglo-Nor- 
man baron,  whose  father  came  over  to  England  with  the  Con- 
queror. The  cause  of  this  supposition  my  tale  will  presently 
explain. 

"  Haco  Brus  or  Bris  was  the  Lord  of  Aberdeen  in  the  reign 
of  Malcolm  the  Second.  He  spent  many  years  abroad,  indeed, 
was  supposed  to  have  married  and  settled  there,  when,  to  the 
surprise  of  his  vassals,  he  suddenly  returned  unmarried,  and 
soon  after  uniting  himself  with  a  beautiful  and  accomplished 
girl,  nearly  related  to  the  blood-royal  of  Scotland,  settled 
quietly  in  this  tower,  which  was  the  stronghold  of  his  posses- 
sions. Years  passed  ;  the  only  child  of  the  baron,  a  son,  born 


188  THE  DATS   OF  BKUCE. 

in  the  first  year  of  his  marriage,  grew  up  in  strength  and  beauty, 
the  idol  not  only  of  his  mother,  but  of  his  father,  a  man  stern 
and  cold  in  seeming,  even  morose,  but  with  passions  fearful 
alike  in  their  influence  and  extent.  Your  eye  glances  to  that 
pictured  face,  he  was  not  the  baron's  son  of  whom  I  speak. 
The  affections,  nay,  the  very  passions  of  the  baron  were  cen- 
tered in  this  boy.  It  is  supposed  pride  and  ambition  were 
their  origin,  for  he  looked,  through  his  near  connection  with 
the  sovereign,  for  further  aggrandizement  for  himself.  There 
were  some  who  declared  ambition  was  not  the  master-passion, 
that  a  deeper,  sterner,  fiercer  emotion  dwelt  within.  Whether 
they  spoke  thus  from  the  sequel,  I  know  not,  but  that  sequel 
proved  their  truth. 

"  There  was  a  gathering  of  all  the  knightly  and  noble  in 
King  Mal<jplm's  court,  not  perchance  for  trials  at  arms  resem- 
bling the  tournays  of  the  present  day,  but  very  similar  in  their 
motive  and  bearing,  though  ruder  and  more  dangerous.  The 
wreath  of  glory  and  victory  was  ever  given  by  the  gentle  hand 
of  beauty.  Bright  eyes  and  lovely  forms  presided  at  the  sports 
even  as  now,  and  the  king  and  his  highest  nobles  joined  in  the 
revels. 

"  The  wife  of  the  Baron  of  Brus  and  his  son,  now  a  fine  boy 
of  thirteen,  were  of  course  amongst  the  royal  guests.  Though 
matron  grace  and  dignified  demeanor  had  taken  the  place  of 
the  blushing  charms  of  early  girlhood,  the  Lady  Helen  Brus 
was  still  very  beautiful,  and  as  the  niece  of  the  king  and  wife 
of  such  a  distinguished  baron,  commanded  and  received  univer- 
sal homage.  Among  the  combatants  was  a  youthful  knight, 
of  an  exterior  and  bearing  so  much  more  polished  and  graceful 
than  the  sons  of  the  soil  or  their  more  northern  visitors,  that  he 
was  instantly  recognized  as  coming  from  Gaul,  then  as  now  the 
most  polished  kingdom  of  the  south.  Delighted  with  his 
bravery,  his  modesty,  and  most  chivalric  bearing,  the  king 
treated  him  with  most  distinguished  honor,  invited  him  to  his 
palace,  spoke  with  him  as  friend  with  friend  on  the  kingdoms 
of  Normandy  and  France,  to  the  former  of  which  he  was  sub- 
ject. There  was  a  mystery,  too,  about  the  young  knight,  which 
heightened  the  interest  he  excited ;  he  bore  no  device  on  his 
shield,  no  cognizance  whatever  to  mark  his  name  and  birth ; 
and  his  countenance,  beautiful  as  it  was,  often  when  in  repose 
expressed  sadness  and  care  unusual  to  his  years,  for  he  was 


THE  DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  189 

still  very  young,  though  in  reply  to  the  king's  solicitations  that 
he  would  choose  one  of  Scotland's  fairest  maidens  (her  dower 
should  be  princely),  and  make  the  Scottish  court  his  home, 
he  had  smilingly  avowed  that  he  was  already  a  husband  and 
father. 

"  The  notice  of  the  king,  of  course,  inspired  the  nobles  with 
similar  feelings  of  hospitality.  Attention  and  kindness  were 
lavished  on  the  stranger  from  all,  and  nothing  was  talked  of 
but  the  nameless  knight.  The  Lord  of  Brus,  who  had  been 
absent  on  a  mission  to  a  distant  court  during  the  continuance 
of  the  martial  games,  was  on  his  return  presented  by  the  king 
himself  to  the  young  warrior.  It  is  said  that  both  were  so 
much  moved  by  this  meeting,  that  all  present  were  mystified 
still  more.  The  baron,  with  that  deep  subtlety  for  which  he 
was  remarkable,  recovered  himself  the  first,  and  accounted  for 
his  emotion  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  hearers,  though  not  ap- 
parently to  that  of  the  stranger,  who,  though  his  cheek  was 
blanched,  still  kept  his  bright  searching  eyes  upon  him,  till  the 
baron's  quailed  'neath  his  gaze.  The  hundred  tongues  of 
rumor  chose  to  speak  of  relationship,  that  there  was  a  likeness 
between  them,  yet  I  know  not  how  that  could  be.  There  is 
no  impress  of  the  fiendish  passion  at  work  in  the  baron's  soul 
on  those  bright,  beautiful  features." 

"  Ha  !  Is  it  of  him  you  speak  ?"  involuntarily  escaped  from 
Nigel,  as  the  old  man  for  a  moment  paused ;  "  of  him  ?  Re- 
thought yon  portrait  was  of  an  ancestor  of  Bruce,  or  where- 
fore is  it  here  ?" 

"  Be  patient,  good  my  son.  My  narrative  wanders,  for  my 
lips  shrink  from  its  tale.  That  the  baron  and  the  knight  met, 
not  in  warlike  joust  but  in  peaceful  converse,  and  at  the  request 
of  the  latter,  is  known,  but  on  what  passed  in  that  interview 
even  tradition  is  silent,  it  can  only  be  imagined  by  the  sequel ; 
they  appeared,  however,  less  reserved  than  at  first.  The  baron 
treated  him  with  the  same  distinction  as  his  fellow-nobles,  and 
the  stranger's  manner  towards  him  was  even  more  respectful 
than  the  mere  difference  of  age  appeared  to  demand.  Impor- 
tant business  with  the  Lord  of  Brus  was  alleged  as  the  cause 
of  his  accepting  that  nobleman's  invitation  to  the  tower  of  Kil- 
drummie,  in  preference  to  others  earlier  given  and  more  eagerly 
enforced.  They  departed  together,  the  knight  accompanied 
but  by  two  of  his  followers,  and  the  baron  leaving  the  greater 


190  THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

number  of  his  in  attendance  on  his  wife  and  child,  who,  for 
some  frivolous  reason,  he  left  with  the  court.  It  was  a  strange 
thing  for  him  to  do,  men  said,  as  he  had  never  before  been 
known  to  lose  sight  of  his  boy  even  for  a  day.  For  some  days 
all  seemed  peace  and  hospitality  within  the  tower.  The  stranger 
was  too  noble  himself,  and  too  kindly  disposed  towards  all  his 
fellow-creatures,  to  suspect  aught  of  treachery,  or  he  might 
have  remarked  the  retainers  of  the  baron  were  changed ;  that 
ruder  forms  and  darker  visages  than  at  first  were  gathering 
around  him.  How  the  baron  might  have  intended  to  make  use 
of  them — almost  all  robbers  and  murderers  by  trade — cannot 
be  known,  though  it  may  be  suspected.  In  this  room  the  last 
interview  between  them  took  place,  and  here,  on  this  silent 
witness  of  the  deed,  the  hand  of  the  father  was  bathed  in  the 
blood  of  the  son !" 

"  God  in  heaven !"  burst  from  Nigel's  parched  lips,  as  he 
sprung  up.  "  The  son — how  could  that  be  ?  how  known  ?" 

"Fearfully,  most  fearfully!"  shudderingly  answered  the  old 
man ;  "  through  the  dying  ravings  of  the  maniac  Lord  of  Brus 
himself.  Had  not  heaven,  in  its  all-seeing  justice,  thus  revealed 
it,  the  crime  would  ever  have  remained  concealed.  His  bandit 
hirelings  were  at  hand  to  remove  and  bury,  many  fathoms  deep 
in  moat  and  earth,  all  traces  of  the  deed.  One  of  the  unfor- 
tunate knight's  followers  was  supposed  to  have  shared  the  fate 
of  his  master,  and  to  the  other,  who  escaped  almost  miracu- 
lously, you  owe  the  preservation  of  your  royal  line. 

"  But  there  was  one  witness  of  the  deed  neither  time  nor 
the  most  cunning  art  could  efface.  The  blood  lay  in  a  pool  on 
the  oaken  floor,  and  the  voice  of  tradition  whispers  that  day 
after  day  it  was  supernaturally  renewed ;  that  vain  were  the 
efforts  to  absorb  it,  it  ever  seemed  moist  and  red ;  and  that  to 
remove  the  plank  and  re-floor  the  apartment  was  attempted 
again  and  again  in  vain.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  evident 
that  erasing  it  was  attended  with  extreme  difficulty ;  that  the 
blood  had  penetrated  well-nigh  through  the  immense  thickness 
of  the  wood." 

Nigel  stooped  down  over  the  crumbling  fragment ;  years, 
aye,  centuries  had  rolled  away,  yet  there  it  still  stood,  arrested 
it  seemed  even  in  its  decay,  not  permitted  to  crumble  into  dust, 
but  to  remain  an  everlasting  monument  of  crime  and  its  retri- 
bution. After  a  brief  pause  Nigel  resumed  his  seat,  and  push- 


THE   DAYS  OF  BRUCE.  191 

ing  the  hair  from  his  brow,  which  was  damp  with  some  untold 
emotion,  signed  to  the  old  man  to  proceed. 

"  That  the  stranger  warrior  returned  not  to  Malcolm's  court, 
and  had  failed  in  his  promises  to  various  friends,  was  a  matter 
of  disappointment,  and  for  a  time,  of  conjecture  to  the  king  and 
his  court.  That  his  followers,  in  obedience,  it  was  said,  to  their 
master's  signet,  set  off  instantly  to  join  him  either  in  England 
or  Normandy,  for  both  of  which  places  they  had  received 
directions,  satisfied  the  greater  number.  If  others  suspected 
foul  play,  it  was  speedily  hushed  up ;  for  the  baron  was  too 
powerful,  too  closely  related  to  the  throne,  and  justice  then  too 
weak  in  Scotland  to  permit  accusation  or  hope  for  conviction. 
Time  passed,  and  the  only  change  observable  in  the  baron  was, 
that  he  became  more  gloomy,  more  abstracted,  wrapt  up,  as  it 
were,  in  one  dark  remembrance,  one  all- engrossing  thought. 
Towards  his  wife  he  was  changed — harsh,  cold,  bitterly  sarcas- 
tic ;  as  if  her  caresses  had  turned  to  gall.  Her  gentle  spirit 
sunk  beneath  the  withering  blight,  and  he  was  heard  to  laugh, 
the  mocking  laugh  of  a  fiend,  as  he  followed  her  to  the  grave ; 
her  child,  indeed,  he  still  idolized,  but  it  was  a  fearful  affection, 
and  a  just  heaven  permitted  not  its  continuance.  The  child,  to 
whom  many  had  looked  as  likely  to  ascend  the  Scottish  throne, 
from  the  failure  of  all  direct  heirs,  the  beautiful  and  innocent 
child  of  a  most  guilty  father,  faded  like  a  lovely  flower  before 
him,  so  softly,  so  gradually,  that  there  came  no  suspicion  of 
death  till  the  cold  hand  was  on  his  heart,  and  he  lay  lifeless 
before  him  who  had  plunged  his  soul  in  deadliest  crime  through 
that  child  to  aggrandize  himself.  Then  was  it  that  remorse, 
torturing  before,  took  the  form  of  partial  madness,  and  there 
was  not  one  who  had  power  to  restrain,  or  guide,  or  soothe. 

"  Then  it  was  the  fearful  tale  was  told,  freezing  the  blood, 
not  so  much  with  the  wild  madness  of  the  tone,  but  that  the 
words  were  too  collected,  too  stamped  with  truth,  to  admit  of 
aught  like  doubt.  The  couch  of  the  baron  was,  at  his  own 
command,  placed  here,  where  we  now  stand,  covering  the  spot 
where  his  first-born  fell,  and  that  portrait,  obtained  from  Nor- 
mandy, hung  where  it  now  is,  ever  in  his  sight.  The  dark  tale 
which  those  wild  ravings  revealed  was  simply  this  : 

"  He  had  married,  as  was  suspected,  during  his  wanderings, 
but  soon  tired  of  the  yoke,  more  particularly  as  his  wife  pos- 
sessed a  spirit  proud  and  haughty  as  his  own,  and  all  efforts  to 


192  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

mould  her  to  his  will  were  useless,  he  plunged  anew  into  his 
reckless  career.  He  had  never  loved  his  wife,  marrying  her 
simply  because  it  suited  his  convenience,  and  brought  him  in- 
crease of  wealth  and  station  ;  and  her  ill-disguised  abhorrence 
of  many  of  his  actions,  her  beautiful  adherence  to  virtue,  how- 
ever tempted,  occasioned  all  former  feelings  to  concentrate  in 
hatred  the  most  deadly.  More  than  one  attempt  to  rid  himself 
of  her  by  poison  she  had  discovered  and  frustrated,  and  at  last 
removed  herself  and  her  child,  under  a  feigned  name,  to  Nor- 
mandy, and  ably  eluded  all  pursuit  and  inquiry. 

"  The  baron's  search  continued  some  time,  in  the  hope  of  si- 
lencing her  forever,  as  he  feared  she  might  prove  a  dangerous 
enemy,  but  failing  in  his  wishes,  he  travelled  some  time  over 
different  countries,  returned  at  length  to  Scotland,  and  acted 
as  we  have  seen.  The  young  knight  had  been  informed  of  his 
birthright  by  his  mother,  at  her  death,  which  took  place  two 
years  before  he  made  his  appearance  in  Scotland ;  that  she  had 
concealed  from  him  the  fearful  character  of  his  father,  being 
unable  so  completely  to  divest  herself  of  all  feeling  towards  the 
father  of  her  child,  as  to  make  him  an  object  of  aversion  to  his 
son.  She  had  long  told  him  his  real  name,  and  urged  him  to 
demand  from  his  father  an  acknowledgment  of  his  being  heir 
to  the  proud  barony  of  the  Bruce.  His  likeness  to  herself  was 
so  strong,  that  she  knew  it  must  carry  conviction  to  his  father ; 
but  to  make  his  identity  still  more  certain,  she  furnished  him 
with  certain  jewels  and  papers,  none  but  herself  could  produce. 
She  had  done  this  in  the  presence  of  two  faithful  witnesses,  the 
father  and  brother  of  her  son's  betrothed  bride,  high  lords  of 
Normandy,  the  former  of  which  made  it  a  condition  annexed  to 
his  consent  to  the  marriage,  that  as  soon  as  possible  afterwards 
he  should  urge  and  claim  his  rights.  Sir  Walter,  of  course,  wil- 
lingly complied ;  they  were  married  by  the  name  of  Brus,  and  their 
child  so  baptized.  A  war,  which  retained  Sir  Walter  in  arms 
with  his  sovereign,  prevented  his  seeking  Scotland  till  his  boy 
was  a  year  old,  and  then  for  his  sake,  far  more  than  for  his 
own,  the  young  father  determined  on  asserting  his  birthright, 
his  child  should  not  be  nameless,  as  he  had  been ;  but  to  spare 
his  unknown  parent  all  public  mortification,  he  joined  the  mar- 
tial games  without  any  cognizance  or  bearing  on  his  shield. 

"  Terrible  were  the  ravings  in  which  the  baron  alluded  to 
the  interview  he  had  had  with  his  murdered  child  ;  the  angelic 


THE   DAYS   OF  BBUCE.  193 

mildness  and  generosity  of  the  youthful  warrior ;  that,  amid  all 
his  firmness  never  to  depart  from  his  claim — as  it  was  not  alone 
himself  but  his  child  he  would  irreparably  injure — he  never 
wavered  in  his  respectful  deference  to  his  parent.  He  quitted 
the  court  in  the  belief  that  the  baron  sought  Kildrummie  to 
collect  the  necessary  papers  for  substantiating  his  claim  ;  but 
ere  he  died,  it  appeared  his  eyes  were  opened.  The  fierce  pas- 
sions of  the  baron  had  been  too  long  restrained  in  the  last  in- 
terview ;  they  burst  even  his  politic  control,  and  he  had  flung 
the  papers  received  from  the  hand  of  his  too-confiding  son  on 
the  blazing  hearth,  and  with  dreadful  oaths  swore  that  if  he 
would  not  instantly  retract  his  claim,  and  bind  himself  by  the 
most  sacred  promise  never  to  breathe  the  foul  tale  again, 
death  should  be  its  silent  keeper.  He  would  not  bring  his  own 
head  low,  and  avow  that  he  had  dishonored  a  scion  of  the 
blood-royal. 

"  Appalled  far  more  at  the  dark,  fiendish  passions  he  beheld 
than  the  threat  held  out  to  himself,  Sir  Walter  stood  silent 
a  while,  and  then  mildly  demanded  to  be  heard  ;  that  if  so  much 
public  mortification  to  his  parent  would  attend  the  pursuance 
of  his  claims  at  the  present  time,  he  would  consent  to  forego 
them,  on  condition  of  his  father's  solemnly  promising  on  his 
deathbed  to  reveal  the  truth,  and  do  him  tardy  justice  then, 
but  forego  them  altogether  he  would  not,  were  his  life  the 
forfeit.  The  calm  firmness  of  his  tone,  it  is  supposed,  lashed 
his  father  into  greater  madness,  and  thus  the  dark  deed  was 
done. 

"  That  the  baron  several  times  endeavored  to  possess  himself 
of  the  infant  child  of  Sir  Walter,  also  came  to  light  in  his  dying 
moments ;  that  he  had  determined  to  exterminate  root  and 
branch,  fearful  he  should  still  possess  some  clue  to  his  birth ; 
he  had  frantically  avowed,  but  in  his  last  hour,  he  would  have 
given  all  his  amassed  treasure,  his  greatness,  his  power,  but  for 
one  little  moment  of  assurance  that  his  grandson  lived.  He 
left  him  all  his  possessions,  his  lordship,  his  name,  but  as  there 
were  none  came  forth  to  claim,  they  of  necessity  passed  to  the 
crown." 

"  But  the  child,  the  son  of  Sir  Walter — if  from  him  our  line 
descends,  he  must  have  lived  to  manhood — why  did  not  he  de- 
mand his  rights  ?" 

"  He  lived,  aye,  and  had  a  goodly  progeny  ;  but  the  fearful 

9 


194  THE  DATS   OF  BEUCE. 

tale  of  his  father's  fate  related  to  him  again  and  again  by  the 
faithful  Edric,  who  had  fled  from  his  master's  murdered  corse 
to  watch  over  the  safety  of  that  master's  child,  and  warn  all 
who  had  the  charge  of  him  of  the  fiend  in  human  shape  who 
would  probably  seek  the  boy's  life  as  he  had  his  father's,  caused 
him  to  shun  the  idea  of  his  Scottish  possessions  with  a  loathing 
horror  which  he  could  not  conquer ;  they  were  associated  with 
the  loss  of  both  his  parents,  for  his  father's  murder  killed  his 
devoted  mother.  He  was  contented  to  feel  himself  Norman 
in  possessions  as  well  as  in  name.  He  received  lands  and  hon- 
ors from  the  Dukes  of  Normandy,  and  at  the  advanced  age  of 
seventy  and  five,  accompanied  Duke  William  to  England.  The 
third  generation  from  him  obtained  anew  Scottish  possessions, 
and  gradually  Kildrummie  and  its  feudal  tenures  returned  to 
its  original  lords ;  but  the  tower  had  been  altered  and  enlarged, 
and  except  the  tradition  of  these  chambers,  the  fearful  fate  of 
the  second  of  the  line  has  faded  from  the  minds  of  his  descend- 
ants, unless  casually  or  supernaturally  recalled." 

"  Ha !  supernaturally,  sayest  thou  ?"  interrupted  Nigel,  in  a 
tone  so  peculiar  it  almost  startled  his  companion.  "  Are  there 
those  who  assert  they  have  seen  his  semblance — good,  gifted, 
beautiful  as  thou  hast  described  him  ?  why  not  at  once  deem 
him  the  guardian  spirit  of  our  house  ?" 

"  And  there  are  those  who  deem  him  so,  young  lord,"  an- 
swered the  seer.  "  It  is  said  that  until  the  Lords  of  Bruce 
again  obtained  possession  of  these  lands,  in  the  visions  of  the 
night  the  form  of  the  murdered  warrior,  clad  as  in  yon  portrait, 
save  with  the  addition  of  a  scarf  across  his  breast  bearing  the 
crest  and  cognizance  of  the  Bruce,  appeared  once  in  his  lifetime 
to  each  lineal  descendant.  Such  visitations  are  said  to  have 
ceased,  and  he  is  now  only  seen  by  those  destined  like  himself 
to  an  early  and  bloody  death,  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  manhood, 
nobleness,  and  joy." 

"  And  where — sleeping  or  waking  ?"  demanded  the  young 
nobleman,  in  a  low,  deep  tone,  laying  his  hand  on  the  minstrel's 
arm,  and  looking  fixedly  on  his  now  strangely  agitated  face. 

"  Sleeping  or  waking  ?  it  hath  been  both,"  he  answered,  and 
his  voice  faltered.  "  If  it  be  in  the  front  of  the  war,  amid  the 
press,  the  crush,  the  glory  of  the  battle,  he  hath  come,  circled 
with  bright  forms  and  brighter  dreams,  to  the  sleeping  warrior 
on  the  eye  of  his  last  fight ;  if" — and  his  voice  grew  lower  and 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  195 

.huskier  yet — "  if  by  the  red  hand  of  the  foe,  by  the  captive's 
chain  and  headsman's  axe,  as  the  noble  Wallace,  there  have 
been  those  who  say — I  vouch  not  for  its  truth — he  hath  been 
seen  in  the  vigils  of  the  night  on  the  eve  of  knighthood,  when 
the  young,  aspiring  warrior  hath  watched  and  prayed  beside 
his  arms.  Boy  !  boy  !  why  dost  thou  look  upon  me  thus  ?" 

"  Because  thine  eye  hath  read  my  doom,"  he  said,  in  a  firm, 
sweet  tone  ;  "  and  if  there  be  aught  of  truth  in  thy  tale,  thou 
knowest,  feelest  I  have  seen  him.  God  of  mercy,  the  captive's 
chain,  the  headsman's  axe !  Yet  'tis  Thy  will,  and  for  my 
country — let  it  come." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

"  THOU  art  idle,  maiden ;  wherefore  not  gather  thy  robes 
and  other  gear  together,  as  thy  companions  ?  Knowest  thou 
not  in  twenty-four  hours  we  shall  be,  heaven  willing,  safely 
sheltered  under  the  holy  wing  of  St.  Duthac  ?"  was  Queen 
Margaret's  address  to  Agnes,  about  a  week  after  the  conversa- 
tion we  have  recorded.  There  were  many  signs  of  confusion 
and  tokens  of  removal  in  her  scanty  train,  but  the  maiden  of 
Buchan  stood  apart,  offering  assistance  when  needed,  but  mak- 
ing no  arrangements  for  herself. 

"  I  seek  not  such  holy  keeping,  may  it  please  you,  madam," 
she  replied.  "  I  do  not  quit  this  castle." 

"  How  !"  exclaimed  Margaret.     "  Art  thou  mad  ?" 

"  In  what,  royal  madam  ?" 

"  Or  hath  love  blinded  thee,  girl  ?  Knowest  thou  not  Here- 
ford and  Lancaster  are  advancing  as  rapidly  as  their  iron-clad 
force  permits,  and  in  less  than  seven  days  the  castle  must  be 
besieged  in  form  ?"  t 

"  I  know  it,  madam." 

"  And  thou  wilt  brave  it,  maiden  ? — dare  a  danger  that  may 
be  avoided  ?  Is  thy  life  of  so  little  worth,  or  if  not  thy  life, 
thy  liberty  ?" 

"  When  a  life  is  wrapt  up  in  one — when  there  is  none  on 
earth  save  that  one  to  whom  that  life  is  of  any  worth,  where- 
fore should  I  seek  safety  save  by  his  side  ?  Royal  madam,  I 


196  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

am  not  mad  nor  blind ;  but  desolate  as  I  am, — nay,  were  I  not 
'twould  be  the  same — I  covet  to  share  Sir  Nigel's  fate  ;  the 
blow  that  strikes  him  shall  lay  me  at  his  side,  be  it  in  prison  or 
in  death.  My  safety  is  with  him ;  and  were  the  danger  ten 
times  as  great  as  that  which  threatens  now,  I'd  share  it  with 
him  still." 

"  Nay,  thou  art  but  a  loving  fool,  Agnes.  Be  advised,  seek 
safety  in  the  sanctuary ;  peril  cannot  reach  us  there." 

"  Save  by  the  treachery  of  the  dark-browed  earl  who  grants 
that  shelter.  Nay,  pardon  me,  madam  ;  thou  lovest  not  to  list 
that  theme,  believing  him  as  honorable  and  faithful  as  thyself. 
God  grant  he  prove  so !  If,"  she  added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  if 
it  be  such  mad  folly  to  cling  to  a  beloved  one  in  danger  as  in 
joy,  in  adversity  as  in  triumph,  forgive  me,  royal  lady,  but  thy 
maidens  have  learned  that  tale  of  thee." 

"  And  would  to  God  I  could  teach  them  thus  again !"  ex- 
claimed the  queen,  tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks.  "  Oh, 
Agnes,  Agnes,  were  Robert  here,  not  death  itself  should  part 
us.  For  my  child's  sake,  for  his,  I  go  hence  for  safety.  Could 
my  resting,  nay,  my  death  benefit  him,  Agnes,  I  would  meet  it, 
weak  as  thou  deemest  me." 

"Nay,  nay,  I  doubt  it  not,  my  queen,"  answered  Agnes, 
soothingly.  "  It  is  best  thou  shouldst  find  some  place  of  re- 
pose till  this  struggle  be  past.  If  it  end  in  victory,  it  will  be 
joy  to  hail  thee  once  again  within  its  walls ;  if  otherwise,  better 
thy  safety  should  be  cared  for." 

"But  for  thee,  my  child,  is  it  not  unmaidenly  for  thee  to 
linger  here  ?" 

"  It  would  be,  royal  madam,"  and  a  bright  vivid  flush  glowed 
on  her  pale  cheeks,  "  but  for  the  protection  of  the  Lady  Seaton, 
who  will  not  leave  her  husband." 

"  I  may  not  blame  her,  after  mine  own  words,"  said  the 
queen,  sorrowfully ;  "  yet  she  is  one  I  could  have  wished  be- 
side me.  Ha !  that  trumpet.  Merciful  heaven  !  is  it  the  foe  ?" 
and  trembling  with  alarm,  she  dispatched  attendant  after  at- 
tendant to  know  the  cause. 

The  English  force  was  known  to  be  so  near  that  many  a 
warrior-heart  beat  quicker  at  any  unusual  blast,  and  it  was  not 
marvel  the  queen's  terrors  shomld  very  often  affect  her  attend- 
ants. Agnes  alone,  amid  the  maiden  train,  ever  retained  a 
calm  self-possession ;  strange  in  one  who,  till  the  last  eventful 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  197 

year,  had  seemed  such  a  very  child.  Her  mother  trembled 
lest  the  turmoils  and  confusion  of  her  country  should  ever  ap- 
proach her  or  those  she  loved  ;  how  might  she,  timid,  nay, 
often  fearful,  weak,  and  yielding,  as  the  flower  on  the  heath, 
how  might  she  encounter  storm,  and  grief,  and  care  ?  Had 
her  mother's  eye  been  on  her  now,  and  could  have  followed 
her  in  yet  deeper  trials,  that  mother  scarce  had  known  her 
child. 

She  it  was  whose  coolness  enabled  her  easily  to  recognize 
and  explain  the  trumpet's  blast.  It  was  an  officer  with  an  es- 
cort from  the  Lord  of  Ross,  informing  the  queen  that,  from  late 
intelligence  respecting  the  movements  of  the  English,  he  deemed 
it  better  they  should  not  defer  their  departure  from  the  castle 
another  night. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  message  all  was  increased  hurry  and 
confusion  in  the  apartments  of  the  queen.  The  advice  was  to 
be  followed  on  the  instant,  and  ere  sunset  the  litters  and  mules, 
and  other  accommodation  for  the  travellers,  waited  their  pleas- 
ure in  the  outer  court. 

It  was  with  a  mien  of  princely  dignity,  a  countenance  grave 
and  thoughtful,  with  which  the  youthful  seneschal  attended 
the  travellers  to  the  great  gate  of  the  castle.  In  after  years 
the  expression  of  his  features  flashed  again  and  again  upon 
those  who  looked  upon  him  them.  Calmly  he  bade  his  sister- 
in-law  farewell,  and  bade  her,  should  she  be  the  first  to  see  his 
brother,  tell  him  that  it  was  at  her  own  free  will  and  pleasure 
she  thus  departed  ;  that  neither  advice  nor  persuasion  on  his 
part  had  been  used ;  she  had  of  her  own  will  released  him 
from  his  sacred  charge  ;  and  if  ill  came  of  it,  to  free  his  mem- 
ory from  blame. 

"  Trust  me,  Nigel ;  oh,  surely  you  may  trust  me !  You  will 
not  part  from  me  in  anger  at  my  wilfulness  ?"  entreated  Marga- 
ret, as  clinging  to  his  arm,  she  retained  him  a  few  minutes  ere 
he  placed  her  in  the  litter. 

"In  anger,  my  sweet  sister,  nay,  thou  wrongest  me!"  he 
said,  a  bright  smile  dispersing  a  moment  the  pensive  cast  of 
his  features.  "  In  sorrow,  perchance,  for  I  love  not  him  to 
whose  care  thou  hast  committed  thyself ;  yet  if  ill  await  this 
castle,  and  thou  wert  with  me,  'twould  enhance  its  bitterness. 
No,  tis  better  thou  shouldst  go ;  though  I  would  it  were  not  to 
the  Lord  of  Ross." 


198  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

"And  wherefore?"  demanded  the  deep  stern  voice  of  the 
officer  beside  him. 

"  Because  I  doubt  him,  Archibald  Macfarlane,"  sternly  re- 
plied the  young  nobleman,  fixing  his  flashing  eyes  upon  him ; 
"  and  thou  mayst  so  inform  him  an  thou  wilt.  An  I  do  him 
wrong,  let  him  deliver  the  Queen  of  Scotland  and  her  attend- 
ants in  safety  to  King  Robert,  in  the  forthcoming  spring,  and 
Nigel  Bruce  will  crave  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  that  he  hath 
done  him  ;  nay,  let  his  conduct  give  my  doubts  the  lie,  and  I 
will  even  thank  him,  sir." 

Turning  on  his  heel,  he  conducted  the  queen  to  her  litter, 
and  bade  a  graceful  farewell  to  all  her  fair  companions,  bidding 
good  angels  speed  them  on  their  way.  The  heavy  gates  were 
thrown  back,  the  portcullis  raised  and  the  draw-bridge  lowered, 
and  amid  a  parting  cheer  from  the  men-at-arms  drawn  up  in 
the  court  in  military  homage  to  their  queen,  the  cavalcade  de- 
parted, attended  only  by  the  men  of  Ross,  for  the  number  of 
the  garrison  was  too  limited  to  admit  of  their  attendance  any- 
where, save  within  and  on  the  walls. 

With  folded  arms  and  an  anxious  brow,  Sir  Nigel  stood  be- 
side the  gate,  marking  the  progress  of  the  train;  a  gentle 
voice  aroused  him.  It  playfully  said,  "Come  to  the  highest 
turret,  Nigel,  there  thou  wilt  trace  their  path  as  long  as  light 
remains."  He  started,  for  Agnes  was  at  his  side.  He  drew 
her  arm  within  his  own,  briefly  gave  the  command  to  close  the 
gate  and  make  all  secure,  and  turned  with  her  in  the  direction 
of  the  keep. 

"  Have  I  done  right,"  he  said,  as,  when  they  had  reached  a 
more  retired  path,  he  folded  his  arm  caressingly  around  her, 
and  drew  her  closer  to  him,  "  to  list  thy  pleadings,  dearest,  to 
grant  thy  boon  ?  oh,  if  they  go  to  safety,  why  did  I  listen  to 
thee  and  permit  thee  to  remain  ?" 

"  Nay,  there  is  equal  safety  within  these  walls,  Nigel.  Be 
assured,  thine  Agnes  hath  neither  regret  nor  doubt  when  thou 
art  by  her  side,"  she  answered,  still  playfully.  "  I  love  not 
the  sanctuaries  they  go  to  seek ;  the  stout  hearts  and  trusty 
blades  of  warriors  like  thee  and  thine,  my  Nigel,  are  better  and 
truer  safeguards." 

"  Alas !  Agnes,  I  fear  me  not  in  cases  such  as  these.  I  am 
not  wont  to  be  desponding,  but  from  the  small  number  of  true 
men  which  garrison  this  castle,  I  care  not  to  acknowledge  I 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  199 

had  loved  better  to  meet  my  foe  on  open  ground.  Here  I  can 
scarce  kno\v  friend  from  foe ;  traitors  may  be  around  me,  nay, 
in  my  very  confidence,  and  I  know  it  not." 

"  Art  thou  not  infected  with  Queen  Margaret's  suspicions, 
Nigel  ?  Why  ponder  on  such  uneasy  dreams  ?" 

"  Because,  my  best  love,  I  am  a  better  adept  in  the  perusal 
of  men's  countenances  and  manners  than  many,  and  there  are 
signs  of  lowering  discontent  and  gloomy  cowardice,  arguing  ill 
for  unity  of  measures,  on  which  our  safety  greatly  rests.  Yet 
my  fancies  may  be  wrong,  and  at  all  hazards  my  duty  shall  be 
done.  The  issue  is  in  the  hands  of  a  higher  power ;  we  cannot 
do  wrong  in  committing  ourselves  to  Him,  for  thou  knowest 
He  giveth  not  the  battle  to  the  strong,  and  right  and  justice 
we  have  on  Scotland's  side." 

Agnes  looked  on  his  face,  and  she  saw,  though  he  spoke 
cheerfully,  his  thoughts  echoed  not  his  words.  She  would  not 
express  her  own  anxiety,  but  led  him  gently  to  explain  to  her 
his  plan  of  defence,  and  prepare  her  for  all  she  might  have  to 
encounter. 

Five  days  passed,  and  all  within  and  without  the  walls  re- 
mained the  same  ;  the  sixth  was  the  Sabbath,  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  officers  and  garrison  were  assembled  in  the  chapel, 
where  divine  service  was  regularly  read  by  the  Abbot  of  Scone, 
whom  we  should  perhaps  before  have  mentioned  as  having,  at 
the  king's  especial  request,  accompanied  the  queen  and  her  at- 
tendants to  Kildrummie.  It  was  a  solemn  yet  stirring  sight, 
that  little  edifice,  filled  as  it  was  with  steel-clad  warriors  and 
rude  and  dusky  forms,  now  bending  in  one  prayer  before  their 
God.  The  proud,  the  lowly,  the  faithless,  and  the  true,  the 
honorable  and  the  base,  the  warrior,  whose  whole  soul  burned 
and  throbbed  but  for  his  country  and  his  king,  the  coward, 
whose  only  thought  was  how  he  could  obtain  life  for  himself 
and  save  the  dread  of  war  by  the  surrender  of  the  castle — one 
and  all  knelt  there,  the  workings  of  those  diverse  hearts  known 
but  to  Him  before  whom  they  bent.  Strangely  and  mournfully 
did  that  little  group  of  delicate  females  gleam  forth  amidst  the 
darker  and  harsher  forms  around,  as  a  knot  of  fragile  flowers 
blooming  alone,  and  unsheltered  amidst  some  rude  old  forest 
trees,  safe  in  their  own  lowliness  from  the  approaching  tempest, 
but  liable  to  be  overwhelmed  in  the  fall  of  their  companions, 
whom  yet  they  would  not  leave.  As  calmly  as  in  his  own  ab- 


200  THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

bey  the  venerable  abbot  read  the  holy  service,  and  administered 
the  rites  of  religion  to  all  who  sought.  It  was  in  the  deep  si- 
lence of  individual  prayer  which  preceded  the  chanting  of  the 
conclusion  of  the  service  that  a  shrill,  peculiar  blast  of  a  trumpet 
was  heard.  On  the  instant  it  was  recognized  as  the  bugle  of 
the  warder  stationed  on  the  centre  turret  of  the  keep,  as  the 
blast  which  told  the  foe  was  at  length  in  sight.  Once,  twice, 
thrice  it  sounded,  at  irregular  intervals,  even  as  Nigel  had  com- 
manded ;  the  notes  were  caught  up  by  the  warders  on  the 
walls,  and  repeated  again  and  again.  A  sudden  cry  of  "  The 
foe  !"  broke  from  the  soldiers  scattered  round,  and  again  all 
was  silence.  There  had  been  a  movement,  almost  a  confusion 
in  some  parts  of  the  church,  but  the  officers  and  those  who  had 
followed  them  from  the  mountains  neither  looked  up  nor  stirred. 
The  imperative  gesture  of  the  abbot  commanded  and  retained 
order  and  silence,  the  service  proceeded ;  there  might  have  been 
some  faltering  in  the  tones  of  the  choir,  but  the  swelling  notes 
of  the  organ  concealed  the  deficiency. 

The  eye  of  Agnes  voluntarily  sought  her  betrothed.  His 
head  was  still  bent  down  in  earnest  prayer,  but  she  had  not 
looked  long  before  she  saw  him  raise  it,  and  lift  up  his  clasped 
hands  in  the  evident  passionate  fervor  of  his  prayer.  So  beau- 
tiful, so  gloriously  beautiful  was  that  countenance  thus  breath- 
ing prayer,  so  little  seemed  that  soul  of  earth,  that  tears  started 
to  the  eyes  of  Agnes,  and  the  paleness  of  strong  emotion  over- 
spread the  cheek,  aye,  and  the  quivering  lip,  which  the  war 
and  death-speaking  trumpet  had  had  no  power  to  disturb. 

"  Let  me  abide  by  him,  merciful  Father,  in  weal  or  in  woe  ; 
oh,  part  us  not!"  she  prayed  again  and  yet  again,  and  the 
bright  smile  which  now  encircled  his  lips — for  he  had  caught 
her  glance — seemed  an  answer  to  her  prayer. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  though  perhaps  to  many  of  the  inmates 
of  Kildrummie  a  terrible  sight,  which  from  the  roof  of  the  tur- 
ret now  presented  itself  to  their  view.  The  English  force  lay 
before  them,  presenting  many  a  solid  phalanx  of  steel,  many  a 
glancing  wood  of  spears.  Nor  were  these  all ;  the  various 
engines  used  in  sieges  at  this  time,  battering-rams,  and  others, 
whose  technical  names  are  unfortunately  lost  to  us,  but  used  to 
fling  stones  of  immense  weight  to  an  almost  incredible  distance  ; 
arbalists,  and  the  incomparable  archer,  who  carried  as  many 
lives  as  arrows  in  his  belt ;  wagons,  heavily  laden,  with  all 


THE   DAYS   OF   BBUCE.  201 

things  necessary  for  a  close  and  numerous  encampment — all 
these  could  be  plainly  distinguished  in  rapid  advance  towards 
the  castle,  marking  their  path  through  the  country  by  the 
smoke  of  the  hamlets  they  had  burned.  Many  and  eager 
voices  resounded  in  various  parts  of  the  castle ;  numbers  had 
thronged  to  the  tower,  with  their  own  eyes  to  mark  the  ap- 
proach of  the  enemy,  and  to  report  all  they  had  seen  to  their 
companions  below,  triumphantly  or  despondingly,  according  to 
the  temper  of  their  minds.  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  and  Sir  Christo- 
pher Seaton,  with  others  of  the  superior  officers,  stood  a  little 
apart,  conversing  eagerly  and  animatedly,  and  finally  separating, 
with  an  eager  grasp  of  the  hand,  to  perform  the  duties  intrust- 
ed to  each. 

"  Ha  !  Christine,  and  thou,  fair  maiden,"  exclaimed  Sir  Chris- 
topher, gayly,  as  on  turning  he  encountered  his  wife  and  Agnes 
arm-in-arm.  "  By  mine  honor,  this  is  bravely  done ;  ye  will 
not  wait  in  your  tiring-bower  till  your  knights  seek  ye,  but 
come  for  information  yourselves.  Well,  'tis  a  goodly  company, 
is't  not  ?  as  gallant  a  show  as  ever  mustered,  by  my  troth. 
Those  English  warriors  tacitly  do  us  honor,  and  proclaim  our 
worth  by  the  numbers  of  gallant  men  they  bring  against  us. 
We  shall  return  the  compliment  some  day,  and  pay  them  sim- 
ilar homage." 

His  wife  smiled  at  his  jest,  and  even  felt  reassured,  for  it 
was  not  the  jest  of  a  mind  ill  at  ease,  it  was  the  same  bluff, 
soldier  spirit  she  had  always  loved. 

"  And,  Nigel,  what  thinkest  thou  ?" 

"  Think,  dearest  ?"  he  said,  answering  far  more  the  appeal- 
ing look  of  Agnes  than  her  words  ;  "  think  ?  that  we  shall  do 
well,  aye,  nobly  well ;  they  muster  not  half  the  force  they  led 
me  to  expect.  The  very  sight  of  them  has  braced  me  with 
new  spirit,  and  put  to  ignominious  flight  the  doubts  and  dreams 
I  told  thee  had  tormented  me." 

Movement  and  bustle  now  pervaded  every  part  of  the  castle, 
but  all  was  conducted  with  an  order  and  military  skill  that  spoke 
well  for  the  officers  to  whom  it  was  intrusted.  The  walls  were 
manned  ;  pickaxes  and  levers,  for  the  purposes  of  hurling  down 
stones  on  the  besiegers,  collected  and  arranged  on  the  walls  ; 
arms  polished,  and  so  arranged  that  the  hand  might  grasp 
them  at  a  minute's  warning,  were  brought  from  the  armory 
to  every  court  and  tower ;  the  granaries  and  storehouses  were 

9* 


202  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

visited,  and  placed  under  trustworthy  guards.  A  band  of 
picked  men,  under  an  experienced  officer,  threw  themselves 
into  the  barbacan,  determined  to  defend  it  to  the  last.  Sir 
Nigel  and  Sir  Christopher  visited  every  part  of  the  outworks, 
displaying  the  most  unceasing  care,  encouraged  the  doubting, 
roused  the  timid,  and  cheered  and  inspired  the  boldest  with 
new  confidence,  new  hope  ;  but  one  feeling  appeared  to  pre- 
dominate— liberty  and  Scotland  seemed  the  watchword  of  one 
and  all. 

Onward,  like  a  mighty  river,  rolled  the  English  force  ;  near- 
er and  nearer,  till  the  middle  of  the  second  day  saw  them  en- 
camped within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  palisades  and  out- 
works raised  on  either  side  of  the  barbacan.  Obtaining  easy 
possession  of  the  river — for  Sir  Nigel,  aware  of  the  great  dis- 
parity of  numbers,  had  not  even  attempted  its  defence — they 
formed  three  distinct  bodies  round  the  walls,  the  strongest  and 
noblest  setting  down  before  the  barbacan,  as  the  principal  point 
of  attack.  Numerous  as  they  had  appeared  in  the  distance, 
well  provided  with  all  that  could  forward  their  success,  it  was 
not  till  closer  seen  all  their  strength  could  be  discovered ;  but 
there  was  no  change  in  the  hopes  and  gallant  feelings  of  the 
Scottish  officers  and  their  men-at-arms,  though,  could  hearts 
have  been  read,  the  timidity,  the  doubts,  the  anxious  wishes  to 
make  favorable  peace  with  the  English  had  in  some  of  the  ori- 
ginal garrison  alarmingly  increased. 

Before,  however,  any  recourse  was  made  to  arms,  an  English 
herald,  properly  supported,  demanded  and  obtained  admission 
within  the  gates,  on  a  mission  from  the  Earls  of  Hereford  and 
Lancaster,  to  Sir  Christopher  Seaton,  Sir  Nigel  Bruce,  and 
others  of  command.  They  were  summoned  to  deliver  up  the 
castle  and  themselves  to  their  liege  lord  and  sovereign,  King 
Edward  ;  to  submit  to  his  mercy,  and  grace  should  be  shown 
to  them,  and  safe  conduct  granted  to  all  those  who,  taking  ref- 
uge within  the  walls  and  adopting  a  position  of  defence,  pro- 
claimed themselves  rebels  and  abettors  of  rebellion  ;  that  they 
should  have  freedom  to  return  to  their  homes  uninjured,  not 
only  in  their  persons  but  in  their  belongings ;  and  this  should 
be  on  the  instant  the  gates  were  thrown  open,  and  the  bannei 
of  England  had  taken  the  place  of  that  of  Scotland  now  float- 
ing from  their  keep. 

"  Tell  thy  master,  thou  smooth-tongued  knave,"  burst  an- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  203 

grily  from  the  lips  of  Sir  Christopher  Seaton,  as  he  half  rose 
from  his  seat  and  clenched  his  mailed  hand  at  the  speaker,  and 
then  hastily  checking  himself,  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  Answer 
him,  Nigel ;  thou  hast  eloquence  at  thy  command,  I  have  none, 
save  at  my  sword's  point,  and  my  temper  is  somewhat  too  hot 
to  list  such  words,  courteous  though  they  may  be." 

"  Tell  your  master,  sir  herald,"  continued  Nigel,  rising  as  his 
colleague  flung  himself  back  on  his  seat,  and  though  his  voice 
was  sternly  calm,  his  manner  was  still  courteous.  "  tell  them 
they  may  spare  themselves  the  trouble,  and  their  followers  the 
danger,  of  all  further  negotiation.  We  are  Scottish  men  and 
Scottish  subjects,  and  consequently  to  all  the  offers  of  England 
we  are  as  if  we  heard  not.  Neither  rebels  nor  abettors  of  reb- 
els, we  neither  acknowledge  the  necessity  of  submitting  our- 
selves to  a  tyrant's  mercy,  nor  desire  the  advantage  of  his 
offered  grace.  Return,  sir  herald ;  we  scorn  the  conditions 
proposed.  We  are  here  for  Scotland  and  for  Scotland's  king, 
and  for  them  we  know  both  how  to  live  and  how  to  die." 

His  words  were  echoed  by  all  around  him,  and  there  was  a 
sharp  clang  of  steel,  as  if  each  man  half  drew  his  eager  sword, 
which  spoke  yet  truer  than  mere  words.  Dark  brows  and  fea- 
tures stern  were  bent  upon  the  herald  as  he  left  their  presence, 
and  animated  council  followed  his  departure. 

No  new  movement  followed  the  return  of  the  herald.  For 
some  days  no  decisive  operation  was  observable  in  the  English 
force ;  and  when  they  did  attack  the  outworks,  it  was  as  if  more 
to  pass  the  time  than  with  any  serious  intent.  It  was  a  period 
of  fearful  suspense  to  the  besieged.  Their  storehouses  were 
scarcely  sufficiently  provided  to  hold  out  for  any  great  length 
of  time,  and  they  almost  imagined  that  to  reduce  them  to  ex- 
tremities by  famine  was  the  intention  of  the  besiegers.  The 
greatest  danger,  if  encountered  hand  to  hand  in  the  m£tee,  was 
welcome,  but  the  very  idea  of  a  slow,  lingering  fate,  with  the 
enemy  before  them,  mocking  their  misery,  was  terrible  to  the 
bravest.  A  daring  sally  into  the  very  thickest  of  the  enemy's 
camp,  headed  by  Nigel  and  his  own  immediate  followers,  car- 
rying all  before  them,  and  when  by  numbers  compelled  to  re- 
treat, bearing  both  booty  and  prisoners  with  them,  roused  the 
English  from  their  confident  supposition  that  the  besieged  would 
soon  be  obliged  to  capitulate,  and  urged  them  into  action.  The 
ire  of  the  haughty  English  blazed  up  at  what  seemed  such  dar- 


204:  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

ing  insolence  in  their  petty  foe.  Decisive  measures  were  resort- 
ed to  on  the  instant,  and  increased  bustle  appeared  to  pervade 
both  besiegers  and  besieged. 

"  Pity  thou  art  already  a  knight,  Nigel !"  bluffly  exclaimed 
Seaton,  springing  into  his  saddle  by  torchlight  the  following 
morning,  as  with  a  gallant  band  he  was  about  dashing  over  the 
drawbridge,  to  second  the  defenders  of  the  barbacan  and  pali- 
sades. "  How  shall  we  reward  thee,  my  boy  ?  Thou  hast 
brought  the  foe  to  bay.  Hark !  they  are  there  before  me," 
and  he  spurred  on  to  the  very  centre  of  the  m&l&c, 

Sir  Nigel  was  not  long  after  him.  The  enemy  was  driven 
back  with  fearful  loss.  Scaling-ladders  were  thrown  down ; 
the  archers  on  the  walls,  better  accustomed  to  their  ground, 
marking  their  foes  by  the  torches  they  carried,  but  concealed 
themselves  by  the  darkness,  dealt  destruction  with  as  unerring 
hand  as  their  more  famous  English  brethren.  Shouts  and  cries 
rose  on  either  side  ;  the  English  bore  back  before  the  sweeping- 
stroke  of  Nigel  Bruce  as  before  the  scythe  of  death.  For  the 
brief  space  of  an  hour  the  strife  lasted,  and  still  victory  was  on 
the  side  of  the  Scots — glorious  victory,  purchased  with  scarce 
the  loss  of  ten  men.  The  English  fled  back  to  their  camp,  leav- 
ing many  wounded  and  dead  on  the  field,  and  some  prisoners 
in  the  hands  of  the  Scots.  Ineffectual  efforts  were  made  to 
harass  the  Scots,  as  with  a  daring  coolnefes  seldom  equalled, 
they  repaired  the  outworks,  and  planted  fresh  palisades  to  sup- 
ply those  which  had  fallen  in  the  strife,  in  the  very  face  of  the 
English,  many  of  them  coolly  detaching  the  arrows  which,  shot 
at  too  great  distance,  could  not  penetrate  the  thick  lining  of 
their  buff  coats,  and  scornfully  flinging  them  back.  Several 
sharp  skirmishes  took  place  that  day,  both  under  the  walls  and 
at  a  little  distance  from  them  ;  but  in  all  the  Scots  were  victo- 
rious, and  when  night  fell  all  was  joy  and  triumph  in  the  castle ; 
shame,  confusion,  and  fury  in  the  English  camp. 

For  several  days  this  continued.  If  at  any  time  the  English, 
by  superiority  of  numbers,  were  victorious,  they  were  sure  to 
be  taken  by  surprise  by  an  impetuous  sally  from  the  besieged, 
and  beaten  back  with  loss,  and  so  sudden  and  concealed  were 
the  movements  of  Nigel  and  Seaton,  that  though  the  besiegers 
lay  closer  and  closer  round  the  castle,  the  moment  of  their  set- 
ting forth  on  their  daring  expeditions  could  never  be  discovered. 
"  Said  I  not  we  should  do  well,  right  well,  sweet  Agnes," 


THE   DAYS   OF  BBUCE.  205 

exclaimed  Nigel,  one  night,  on  his  return  from  an  unusually 
successful  sally,  "  and  are  not  my  words  true  ?  Hast  thou  look- 
ed forth  on  the  field  to-day,  and  seen  how  gloriously  it  went  ? 
Oh,  to  resign  this  castle  to  my  brother's  hands  unscathed,  even 
as  he  intrusted  it ;  to  hold  it  for  him,  threatened  as  it  is  !" 

He  smiled  gayly  as  he  spoke,  for  the  consciousness  of  power 
was  upon  him — power  to  will  and  do,  to  win  and  to  retain — 
that  most  blessed  consciousness,  whether  it  bless  a  hero's  breast 
or  poet's  soul,  a  maiden's  heart  or  scholar's  dream,  this  check- 
ered world  can  know. 

"  I  did  look  forth,  my  Nigel,  for  I  could  not  rest ;  yet  ask 
me  not  to  tell  thee  how  the  battle  went,"  she  added,  with  a 
faint  flush,  as  she  looked  up  in  his  noble  face,  beaming  as  it  was 
with  every  feeling  dear  to  the  heart  that  loved,  "  for  I  traced 
but  the  course  of  one  charger,  saw  but  the  waving  of  one 
plume." 

"  And  thou  didst  not  fear  the  besiegers'  arrows,  my  beloved  ? 
Didst  stand  in  the  shelter  I  contrived  ?  Thou  must  not  risk 
danger,  dearest ;  better  not  list  the  urgings  of  thy  noble  spirit 
than  be  aught  exposed." 

"  There  was  no  danger,  Nigel,  at  least  there  seemed  none," 
she  said.  "  I  felt  no  fear,  for  I  looked  on  thee." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HAD  the  gallant  defenders  of  Kildrummie  Castle  been  con- 
scious that  the  at  first  dilatory  and  then  uncertain  measures  of 
their  foes  originated  in  the  fact  that  the  Earls  of  Hereford  and 
Lancaster  were  not  themselves  yet  on  the  field,  and  that  they 
had  with  them  a  vast  addition  to  their  forces,  they  would  not 
perhaps  have  rested  so  securely  on  the  hopes  which  their  un- 
expected success  very  naturally  engendered.  Attack  on  one 
side  they  knew  they  could  resist ;  their  only  dread  had  been 
that,  from  the  numbers  of  the  English,  the  angle  towers,  each 
of  which  covered  a  postern,  might  be  attacked  at  once,  and  thus 
discover  the  real  weakness  of  their  forces.  The  obstinate  strug- 
gle for  the  barbacan,  the  strongest  point  of  the  castle,  had  been 
welcomed  with  joy  by  the  Scotch,  for  there  they  could  overlook 


206  THE   DATS   OF  BEUCE. 

every  movement  of  the  besiegers.  Some  wonder  it  did  cause 
that  such  renowned  knights  as  the  earls  were  known  to  be, 
should  not  endeavor  to  throw  them  off  their  guard  by  a  division 
of  attack ;  but  this  wonder  could  not  take  from  the  triumph  of 
success. 

It  was  from  no  want  of  observation  the  absence  of  the  two 
earls  remained  undiscovered  by  the  besieged.  Engaged  on  a 
secret  expedition,  whose  object  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel,  they 
had  commanded  the  message  demanding  surrender  to  be  given 
in  their  names,  their  pavilions  to  be  pitched  in  sight  of  the  cas- 
tle as  if  they  were  already  there,  their  banners  to  wave  above 
them,  esquires  and  pages  to  be  in  attendance,  and  their  war-cries 
to  be  shouted,  as  was  the  custom  when  they  led  on  in  person. 
The  numerous  knights,  clothed  in  bright  armor  from  head  to 
heel  ever  traversing  the  field,  assisted  the  illusion,  and  the 
Scotch  never  once  suspected  the  truth. 

Imagining  a  very  brief  struggle  would  deliver  the  castle  into 
their  hands,  even  if  its  garrison  were  mad  enough  to  refuse  com- 
pliance with  King  Edward's  terms,  the  earls  had  not  hurried 
themselves  on  their  expedition,  and  a  fortnight  after  the  siege 
had  begun,  were  reposing  themselves  very  cavalierly  in  the 
stronghold  of  an  Anglo-Scottish  baron,  some  thirty  miles  south- 
ward of  the  scene  of  action. 

It  was  the  .hour  of  supper,  a  rude  repast  of  venison,  inter- 
spersed with  horn  and  silver  flagons  filled  with  the  strong 
liquors  of  the  day,  and  served  up  in  a  rude  hall,  of  which  the 
low  round  arches  in  the  roof,  the  massive  walls  without  but- 
tresses, and  windows  running  small  outside,  but  spreading  as  to 
become  much  larger  within,  all  denoted  the  Saxon  architecture 
unsoftened  by  any  of  the  Norman  improvements. 

The  earls  and  their  host,  with  some  attendant  knights,  sat  as 
usual  round  the  dais  or  raised  part  of  the  hall,  their  table  dis- 
tinguished it  may  be  by  some  gold  as  well  as  silver  vessels,  and 
a  greater  variety  of  liquor,  particularly  hypocras  and  claret  of 
the  day,  the  one  formed  of  wine  and  honey,  the  other  of  wine 
and  spices ;  by  the  sinnel  and  wastel  cakes,  but  certainly  not  by 
the  superior  refinement  of  the  more  solid  food.  The  huge  sil- 
ver saltcellar  alone  divided  the  table  of  the  baron  from  that  of 
his  dependants,  yet  the  distinction  of  sitting  above  and  below 
the  salt  was  as  great  as  the  division  between  the  master  and 
servant  of  the  present  day  ;  the  jest,  the  loud  laugh  seasoned 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  207 

the  viands  placed  before  them,  and  the  hearty  draught  from  the 
welcome  flagon.  Nor  was  the  baron's  own  table  much  quieter ; 
remarks  on  the  state  of  the  country,  speculations  as  to  the  hid- 
ing-place of  King  Robert,  and  when  they  should  receive  tidings 
of  the  surrender  of  Kildrummie,  formed  topics  of  conversation 
alternately  with  discussions  on  the  excellence  of  the  wines,  the 
flavor  of  the  venison,  the  difference  between  English  and  Scot- 
tish cookery,  and  such  like  matters,  important  in  the  days  of 
our  ancestors  as  in  our  own. 

"  You  have  ridden  long  enough  to-day,  good  my  lords,  to 
make  a  hearty  charge  on  your  suppers ;  a  long  journey  and  a 
tough  battle,  commend  me  to  them  for  helps  to  the  appetite," 
said  the  Scottish  baron,  joyously  inviting  them  by  his  own  ex- 
ample to  eat  on  and  spare  not. 

"  Commend  me  to  the  latter,  an  ye  will,"  answered  Here- 
ford, on  whose  brow  a  cloud  of  something  like  distaste  had 
spread ;  "  but  by  mine  honor,  I  love  not  the  business  of  the 
last  week.  I  have  brought  it  to  a  close,  however,  and  praise 
the  saints  for  it." 

"  Bah !  thou  art  over-squeamish,  Hereford.  Edward  would 
give  us  the  second  best  jewel  in  his  chaplet  for  the  rich  prize 
we  have  sent  him,"  resumed  Lancaster. 

"  Reserving  the  first,  of  course,  for  the  traitor  Bruce  himself," 
interposed  their  host.  "Ah!  such  a  captive  were  in  truth 
worth  an  earldom." 

"  Then,  by  my  troth,  the  traitor's  wife  is  worth  a  barony," 
returned  Lancaster,  laughing ;  "  and  her  fair  bevy  of  attend- 
ants, amongst  whom  are  the  wives,  daughters,  and  sisters  of 
many  a  rebel,  thinkest  thou  not  we  shall  be  high  in  Edward's 
favor  for  them,  too  ?  I  tell  thee  we  might  have  fought  many 
a  good  fight,  and  not  have  done  him  such  good  service." 

"  It  may  be,  it  may  be,"  answered  Hereford,  impatiently ; 
"  had  it  been  at  the  sword's  point,  had  they  been  prisoners  by 
force  of  arms,  I  would  have  joyed  too,  and  felt  it  was  good  ser- 
vice ;  but  such  rank  treachery,  decoyed,  entrapped  by  that  foul 
prince  of  lies,  the  Lord  of  Ross — faugh  !  I  could  have  rammed 
his  treachery  back  into  his  throat." 

"  And  done  the  king,  perchance,  good  service  too,"  rejoined 
Lancaster,  still  excessively  amused,  "  for  I  have  no  faith  in  a 
traitor,  however  he  may  serve  us  a  while ;  yet  thou  art  not 
over- wise,  good  friend,  to  let  such  trifles  chafe  thee  thus.  Trust 


208  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

me,  Edward  will  think  more  of  the  captives  than  the  cap- 
ture." 

"  There  was  a  time  he  would  not,"  answered  the  earl,  mourn- 
fully ;  "  a  time,  when  Edward  would  have  held  it  foul  scorn  to 
war  with  women,  and  worse  than  scorn  to  obtain  their  persons 
by  treachery,  as  now." 

"  Aye,  but  he  has  changed,  and  we  must  change  too,  would 
we  please  him,"  said  the  baron ;  "  such  notions  might  have 
done  in  former  days,  but  they  are  too  high-flown  for  the  pres- 
ent time,  my  good  lord.  I  marvel  they  should  have  lingered 
so  long  with  thee." 

A  frown  gathered  on  Hereford's  broad  and  noble  brow,  but 
remembering  the  forbearance  due  to  his  host,  he  checked  an 
angry  reply.  "  The  king  has  changed,"  he  said,  "  darkly  and 
painfully  changed ;  ambition  has  warped  the  noblest,  knightli- 
est  heart  which  ever  beat  for  chivalry." 

"  Hush,  ere  thou  speakest  treason,  Sir  Earl ;  give  me  not  the 
pain  of  draining  another  flagon  of  this  sparkling  hypocras  to 
gain  strength  for  thine  arrest,  good  friend,"  exclaimed  Lancas- 
ter, laying  the  flat  of  his  sword  on  the  earl's  shoulder. 

Hereford  half  smiled.  "  Thou  art  too  happy  in  thy  light- 
hearted  mirth  for  me  to  say  aught  that  would  so  disturb  it," 
he  said ;  "  yet  I  say,  and  will  say  again,  would  to  heaven,  I 
had  been  before  the  gates  of  Kildrummie,  and  left  to  thee  all 
the  honor  and  glory,  an  thou  wilt,  of  this  capture." 

"  Honor  and  glory,  thou  bitter  piece  of  satire !"  rejoined 
Lancaster,  holding  up  a  large  golden  flagon  to  hide  his  face 
from  the  earl.  "  Unhappy  me,  were  this  all  the  glory  I  could 
win.  I  will  wipe  away  the  stain,  if  stain  there  be,  at  Kildrum- 
mie, an  it  be  not  surrendered  ere  we  reach  it." 

"  The  stain  is  with  the  base  traitor  Ross,  not  with  thee  or 
me,"  answered  Hereford  ;  "  'tis  that  I  abhor  the  nature  of  such 
expeditions,  that  I  loathe,  aye,  loathe  communication  with  such 
as  he,  and  that — if  it  can  be — that  worse  traitor  Buchan,  that 
makes  me  rejoice  I  have  naught  before  me  now  but  as  fair  a  field 
as  a  siege  may  be.  Would  to  God,  this  devastating  and  most 
cruel  war  were  over,  I  do  say !  on  a  fair  field  it  may  be  borne, 
but  not  to  war  with  women  and  children,  as  has  been  my  fate." 

"  Aye,  by  ^the  way,  this  is  not  the  first  fair  prize  thou  hast 
sent  to  Edward  ;  the  Countess  of  Buchan  was  a  rare  jewel  for 
our  coveting  monarch — somewhat  more  than  possession,  there 


THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  209 

was  room  for  vengeance  there.  Bore  she  her  captivity  more 
queenly  than  the  sobbing  and  weeping  Margaret  ?" 

The  question  was  reiterated  by  most  of  the  knights  around 
the  dais,  but  Hereford  evidently  shrunk  from  the  inquiry. 

"  Speak  not  of  it,  I  charge  ye,"  he  said.  "  There  is  no  room 
for  jesting  on  grief  as  hers  ;  majestic  and  glorious  she  was,  but 
if  the  reported  tale  be  true,  her  every  thought,  her  every  feel- 
ing was,  as  I  even  then  imagined,  swallowed  up  in  one  tearless 
and  stern  but  all-engrossing  anguish." 

"  The  reported  tale !  meanest  thou  the  fate  of  her  son  ?" 
asked  one  of  the  knights. 

"  If  it  be  true  !"  resumed  another ;  "  believest  thou,  my  lord, 
there  is  aught  of  hope  to  prove  it  false  ?" 

"More  likely  to  be  true  than  false,"  added  Lancaster;  "I 
can  believe  any  thing  of  that  dark  scowling  villain  Buchan — 
even  the  murder  of  his  child." 

"  I  believe  it  not"  answered  Hereford ;  "  bad  as  that  man  is, 
hard  in  heart  as  in  temper,  he  has  too  much  policy  to  act  thus, 
even  if  he  had  no  feelings  of  nature  rising  to  prevent  it.  No, 
no ;  I  would  wager  the  ruby  brooch  in  my  helmet  that  boy 
lives,  and  his  father  will  make  use  of  him  to  forward  his  own 
interests  yet." 

"  But  why  then  forge  this  tale  ?"  demanded  their  host ; 
"  how  may  that  serve  his  purpose  ?" 

"Easily. enough,  with  regard  to  the  vengeance  we  all  know 
he  vowed  to  wreak  on  his  unhappy  wife.  What  deeper  misery 
could  he  inflict  upon  her  than  the  belief  her  boy  was  murdered  ? 
and  as  for  its  effect  on  Edward,  trust  a  Comyn  to  make  his  own 
way  clear." 

"  But  what  do  with  the  boy  meanwhile  ?" 

"  Keep  him  under  lock  and  key ;  chained  up,  may  be,  as  a 
dog  in  a  kennel,  till  he  has  broken  his  high  spirit,  and  moulds 
him  to  the  tool  he  wills,"  answered  Hereford,  "  or  at  least  till 
his  mother  is  out  of  his  path." 

"  Ha !  thinkest  thou  the  king  will  demand  such  sweeping 
vengeance  ?  He  surely  will  not  sentence  a  woman  to  death." 

"  Had  I  thought  so,  had  I  only  dreamed  so,"  replied  Here- 
ford, with  almost  startling  sternness,  "  as  there  is  a  God  above 
us,  I  would  have  risked  the  charge  of  treason  and  refused  to 
give  her  up  !  But  no,  my  lords,  no ;  changed  as  Edward  is, 
he  would  not,  he  dared  not  use  his  power  thus.  I  meant  but 


210  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

imprisonment,  when  I  said  out  of  the  boy's  path — more  he  will 
not  do ;  but  even  such  I  love  not.  Bold  as  it  was  to  crown 
the  rebel  Bruce,  the  deed  sprung  from  a  noble  heart,  and  noble 
deeds  should  meet  with  noble  judgment." 

A  bugle  sounded  twice  or  thrice  sharply  without,  and  occa- 
sioning some  bustle  at  the  lower  part  of  the  hall,  interrupted 
for  a  brief  space  the  converse  of  the  lords.  A  few  minutes 
after,  the  seneschal,  attended  by  two  or  three  higher  servants, 
returned,  marshalling  in  due  form  two  young  men  in  the  garb 
of  esquires,  followed  by  some  fifteen  or  twenty  men-at-arms. 

"  Ha !  Fitz-Ernest  and  Hugo ;  well  met,  and  ye  bring  us 
good  tidings  from  Kildrummie,"  exclaimed  both  the  English 
earls  at  on.ce,  as  cap  in  hand  the  esquires  slowly  walked  up  the 
hall,  and  did  obeisance  to  their  masters. 

"  Yet  your  steps  are  somewhat  laggard,  an  they  bring  us 
news  of  victory.  By  my  troth,  were  it  not  utterly  impossible, 
I  could  deem  ye  had  been  worsted  in  the  strife,"  continued  the 
impatient  Lancaster,  while  the  cooler  and  more  sagacious  Here- 
ford scanned  the  countenances  of  the  esquires  in  silence.  "  Yet 
and  ye  come  not  to  tell  of  victory,  why  have  ye  come  at  all  ?" 

"  To  beseech  your  lordship's  speedy  return  to  the  camp," 
replied  Fitz-Ernest,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  his  cheek  still 
flushed  from  his  master's  words.  "  There  is  division  of  pur- 
pose and  action  in  the  camp,  and  an  ye  not  return  and  head 
the  attack  your  noble  selves,  I  fear  me  there  is  little  hope  of 
victory." 

"  Peace,  fool !  is  there  such  skill  and  wisdom  needed  ?  Di- 
vision in  purpose  and  action !  Quarrelling,  methinks,  had  bet- 
ter be  turned  against  the  enemy  than  against  yourselves.  Hugo, 
do  thou  speak ;  in  plain  terms,  wherefore  come  ye  ?" 

"  In  plain  terms,  then,  good  my  lord,  as  yet  we  have  had  the 
worst  of  it,"  answered  the  esquire,  bluntly.  "  The  Scotch  fight 
like  very  devils,  attacking  us  instead  of  waiting  for  our  attack, 
penetrating  into  the  very  centre  of  our  camp,  one  knows  not 
how  or  whence,  bearing  off  prisoners  and  booty  in  our  very 
teeth." 

"  Prisoners — booty — worsted !  Thou  durst  not  tell  me  so !" 
exclaimed  Lancaster,  furiously,  as  he  started  up  and  half  drew 
his  sword. 

"  Peace,  peace,  I  pray  thee,  good  friend,  peace,"  continued 
Hereford,  laying  his  hand  on  Lancaster's  shoulder,  with  a  force 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  211 

which  compelled  him  to  resume  his  seat.  "  Let  us  at  least 
hear  and  understand  their  mission.  Speak  out,  Hugo,  and 
briefly — what  has  befallen  ?" 

In  a  few  straightforward  words  his  esquire  gave  all  the  in- 
formation which  was  needed,  interrupted  only  now  and  then 
by  a  brief  interrogation  from  Hereford,  and  some  impatient 
starts  and  muttering  from  his  colleague.  The  success  of  the 
Scots,  described  in  a  former  page,  had  continued,  despite  the 
action  of  the  mangonels  and  other  engines  which  the  massive 
walls  appeared  to  hold  in  defiance.  So  watchful  and  skilful 
were  the  besieged,  that  the  greatest  havoc  had  been  made 
amongst  the  men  employed  in  working  the  engines,  and  not 
yet  had  even  the  palisades  and  barbacan  been  successfully 
stormed. 

"  Have  they  tried  any  weaker  point  ?"  Hereford  asked,  and 
the  answer  was,  that  it  was  on  this  very  matter  division  had 
spread  amongst  the  knights,  some  insisting  on  carrying  the  bar- 
bacan as  the  most  important  point,  and  others  advising  and 
declaring  their  only  hope  of  success  lay  in  a  divided  attack  on 
two  of  the  weaker  sides  at  once. 

"  The  fools,  the  sorry  fools !"  burst  again  from  Lancaster. 
"  They  deserve  to  be  worsted  for  their  inordinate  pride  and 
folly  ;  all  wanted  to  lead,  and  none  would  follow.  Give  you 
good  e'en,  my  lord,"  he  added,  turning  hastily  to  his  host ; 
"  I'll  to  the  courtyard  and  muster  forth  my  men.  Fitz-Ernest, 
thou  shalt  speak  on  as  we  go,"  and  drawing  his  furred  mantle 
around  him,  he  strode  rapidly  yet  haughtily  from  the  hall. 
Hereford  only  waited  to  learn  all  from  Hugo,  to  hold  a  brief 
consultation  with  some  of  his  attendant  knights,  and  he  too, 
despite  the  entreaties  of  his  host  to  tarry  with  him  at  least  till 
morning,  left  the  banquet  to  don  his  armor. 

"  Silence  and  speed  carry  all  before  them,  my  good  lord," 
he  said,  courteously.  "  In  such  a  case,  though  I  fear  no  eventual 
evil,  they  must  not  be  neglected.  I  would  change  the  mode 
of  attack  on  these  Scotch,  ere  they  are  even  aware  their  foes 
are  reinforced." 

"  Eventual  evil,  of  a  truth,  there  need  not  be,  my  lord,"  in- 
terposed his  esquire,  "  even  should  no  force  of  arms  prevail.  I 
have  heard  there  are  some  within  the  walls  who  need  but  a 
golden  bribe  to  do  the  work  for  us." 

"  Peace  !"  said  the  nobleman,  sternly.     "  I  loathe  the  very 


212  THE  DAYS   OF  BKUOE. 

word  betray — spoken  or  intended.  Shame,  shame  on  thee  to 
speak  it,  and  yet  more  shame  to  imagine  it  needed !  Art  thou 
of  Norman  birth,  and  deemest  a  handful  of  Scotch  like  these 
will  bid  us  raise  the  siege  and  tamely  depart  ? — yet  better  so 
than  gained  by  treachery." 

Hugo  and  the  Scottish  baron  alike  shrunk  back  from  the 
reproving  look  of  Hereford,  and  both  silently  followed  him  to 
the  courtyard.  Already  it  was  a  scene  of  bustling  animation : 
trumpets  were  sounding  and  drums  rolling ;  torches  flashing 
through  the  darkness  on  the  mailed  coats  of  the  knights  and 
on  gleaming  weapons ;  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  near  two 
hundred  horse,  hastily  accoutred  and  led  from  the  stable, 
mingled  with  the  hoarse  winds  of  winter,  howling  tempestu- 
ously around.  The  reserve  which  Hereford  had  retained  to 
guard  the  prisoners  so  treacherously  delivered  over  to  him,  was 
composed  of  the  noblest  amidst  his  army,  almost  all  mounted 
chevaliers ;  and,  therefore,  though  he  might  not  add  much 
actual  force  to  the  besiegers,  the  military  skill  and  experience 
which  that  little  troop  included  argued  ill  for  the  besieged. 
Some  of  the  heaviest  engines  he  had  kept  back  also,  particu- 
larly a  tower  some  four  or  five  stories  high,  so  constructed  that 
it  could  be  rolled  to  the  walls,  and  its  inmates  ascend  un- 
scathed by  the  weapons  of  their  defenders.  Not  imagining  it 
would  be  needed,  he  had  not  sent  it  on  with  the  main  body, 
but  now  he  commanded  twelve  of  the  strongest  horses  to  be 
yoked  to  it,  and  on  went  the  unwieldy  engine,  rumbling  and 
staggering  on  its  ill-formed  wheels.  Lancaster,  whose  impa- 
tience no  advice  could  ever  control,  dashed  on  with  the  first 
troop,  leaving  his  cooler  comrade  to  look  to  the  yoking  of  the 
engines  and  the  marshalling  the  men,  and  with  his  own  imme- 
diate attendants  bringing  up  the  rear,  a  task  for  which  Here- 
ford's self-command  as  well  fitted  him  as  his  daring  gallantry 
to  head  the  foremost  charge. 

"  Ye  will  have  a  rough  journey,  my  good  lord  ;  yet  an  ye 
deem  it  best,  farewell  and  heaven  speed  ye,"  was  the  parting 
greeting  of  the  baron,  as  he  stood  beside  the  impatient  charger 
of  the  earl. 

"  The  rougher  the  better,"  was  that  nobleman's  reply ;  "  the 
noise  of  the  wind  will  conceal  our  movements  better  than  a 
calmer  night.  Farewell,  and  thanks — a  soldier's  thanks,  my 
lord,  poor  yet  honest — for  thy  right  noble  welcome." 


THE   DATS   OF  BEUCB.  213 

He  bent  his  head  courteously,  set  spurs  to  his  steed,  and 
dashed  over  the  drawbridge  as  the  last  of  his  men  disappeared 
through  the  outer  gate.  The  Scottish  nobleman  looked  after 
him  with  many  mingled  feelings. 

'•  As  noble  a  warrior  as  ever  breathed,"  he  muttered ;  "  it 
were  honor  to  serve  under  him,  -yet  an  he  wants  me  not  I  will 
not  join  him.  I  love  not  the  Bruce,  yet  uncalled,  unneeded,  I 
will  not  raise  sword  against  my  countrymen,"  and  with  slow, 
unequal  steps  he  returned  to  the  hall. 

Hereford  was  correct  in  his  surmises.  The  pitchy  darkness 
of  a  winter  night  would  scarcely  have  sufficed  to  hide  the 
movements  attendant  on  the  sudden  arrival  of  a  large  body  of 
men  in  the  English  camp,  had  not  the  hoarse  artillery  of  the 
wind,  moaning,  sweeping,  and  then  rushing  o'er  the  hills  with 
a  crashing  sound  like  thunder,  completely  smothered  every  other 
sound,  and  if  at  intervals  of  quiet  unusual  sounds  did  attract 
the  ears  of  those  eager  watchers  on  the  Scottish  walls,  the 
utter  impossibility  of  kindling  torches  or  fires  in  either  camp 
frustrated  every  effort  of  discovery.  Hoarser  and  wilder  grew 
the  whirlwind  with  the  waning  hours,  till  even  the  steel-clad 
men-at-arms  stationed  on  the  walls  moved  before  it,  and  were 
compelled  to  crouch  down  till  its  violence  had  passed.  Favored 
by  the  elements,  Hereford  proceeded  to  execute  his  measures, 
heedless  alike  of  the  joyful  surprise  his  sudden  appearance 
occasioned,  and  of  the  tale  of  division  and  discord  which  Hugo 
and  Fitz-Ernest  had  reported  as  destroying  the  unity  of  the 
camp.  Briefly  and  sternly  refusing  audience  to  each  who 
pressed  forward,  eager  to  exculpate  himself  at  the  expense  of 
his  companions,  he  desired  his  esquire  to  proclaim  a  general 
amnesty  to  all  who  allowed  themselves  to  have  been  in  error, 
and  would  henceforth  implicitly  obey  his  commands  ;  he  re- 
turned to  his  pavilion,  with  the  Earl  of  Lancaster,  summoning 
around  him  the  veterans  of  the  army,  and  a  brief  consultation 
was  held.  They  informed  him  the  greatest  mischief  had  been 
occasioned  by  the  injuries  done  to  the  engines,  which  had  been 
brought  to  play  against  the  walls.  Stones  of  immense  weight 
had  been  hurled  upon  them,  materially  injuring  their  works, 
and  attended  with  such  fatal  slaughter  to  the  men  who  worked 
them,  that  even  the  bravest  shrunk  back  appalled  ;  that  the 
advice  of  the  senior  officers  had  been  to  hold  back  until  these 
engines  were  repaired,  merely  keeping  strict  guard  against 


214  THE  DAYS  OF  BKUCE. 

unexpected  sallies  on  the  part  of  the  Scotch,  as  this  would  not 
only  give  them  time  to  recruit  their  strength,  but  in  all  proba- 
bility throw  the  besieged  off  their  guard.  Not  above  half  of 
the  army,  however,  agreed  with  this  counsel ;  the  younger  and 
less  wary  spurned  it  as  cowardice  and  folly,  and  rushing  on  to 
the  attack,  ill-formed  and  ill-conducted,  had  ever  been  beaten 
back  with  immense  loss ;  defeat,  however,  instead  of  teaching 
prudence,  lashed  them  into  greater  fury,  which  sometimes 
turned  upon  each  other. 

Hereford  listened  calmly,  yet  with  deep  attention,  now  and 
then  indeed  turning  his  expressive  eyes  towards  his  colleague, 
as  if  entreating  him  to  observe  that  the  mischief  which  had 
befallen  them  proceeded  greatly  from  impetuosity  and  impru- 
dence, and  beseeching  his  forbearance.  Nor  was  Lancaster 
regardless  of  this  silent  appeal ;  conscious  of  his  equality  with 
Hereford  in  bravery  and  nobleness,  he  disdained  not  to  ac- 
knowledge his  inferiority  to  him  in  that  greater  coolness,  which 
in  a  siege  is  so  much  needed,  and  grasping  his  hand  with  gen- 
erous fervor,  bade  him  speek,  advise,  command,  and  he  would 
find  no  one  in  the  camp  more  ready  to  be  counselled  and  to 
obey  than  Lancaster.  To  tear  down  those  rebel  colors  and 
raise  those  of  England  in  their  stead,  was  all  he  asked. 

"And  fear  not  that  task  shall  be  other  than  thine  own, 
my  gallant  friend,"  was  Hereford's  instant  reply,  his  features 
kindling  at  Lancaster's  words  more  than  they  had  done  yet ; 
and  then  again  quickly  resuming  his  calm  unimpassioned  ex- 
terior, he  inquired  if  the  mangonels  and  other  engines  were 
again  fit  for  use.  There  were  several  that  could  instantly  be 
put  in  action  was  the  reply.  Had  the  numbers  of  fighting  men 
within  the  castle  been  ascertained  ?  They  had,  a  veteran  an- 
swered, from  a  prisoner,  who  had  appeared  so  willing  to  give 
information,  that  his  captors  imagined  there  were  very  many 
malcontents  within  the  walls.  Of  stalwart  fighting  men  there 
were  scarcely  more  than  three  hundred  ;  others  there  were,  of 
whose  number  was  the  prisoner,  who  fought  because  their 
companions'  swords  would  else  have  been  at  their  throats,  but 
that  they  would  be  glad  enough  to  be  made  prisoners,  to  escape 
the  horrors  of  the  siege. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  was  the  earl's  sole  rejoinder,  "  there 
will  be  less  glory  in  the  conquest." 

"  And  this  Sir  Nigel  Bruce,  whoe'er  he  be,  hath  to  combat 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  215 

'gainst  fearful  odds,"  remarked  Lancaster ;  "  and  these  Scotch- 
men, by  my  troth,  seem  touched  by  the  hoof  of  the  arch- 
deceiver — treachery  from  the  earl  to  the  peasant.  Hast  no- 
ticed how  this  scion  of  the  Bruce  bears  himself  ? — right  gal- 
lantly, 'tis  said." 

"  As  a  very  devil,  my  lord,"  impetuously  answered  a  knight ; 
"  in  the  walls  or  out  of  them,  there's  no  standing  before  him. 
He  sweeps  down  his  foes,  line  after  line,  as  cards  blown  before 
the  wind ;  he  is  at  the  head  of  every  charge,  the  last  of  each 
retreat.  But  yesternight  there  were  those  who  marked  him 
covering  the  retreat  of  his  men  absolutely  alone ;  his  sword 
struck  down  two  at  every  sweep,  till  his  passage  was  cleared  ; 
he  darted  on — the  drawbridge  trembled  in  its  grooves — for  he 
had  given  the  command  to  raise  it,  despite  his  own  danger — 
his  charger,  mad  as  himself,  sprang  forward,  and  like  a  light- 
ning flash,  both  disappeared  within  the  portcullis  as  the  bridge 
uprose." 

"  Gallantly  done !"  exclaimed  Lancaster,  who  had  listened 
to  this  recital  almost  breathlessly.  "  By  St.  George,  a  foe 
worthy  to  meet  and  struggle  with !  But  who  is  he — what 
is  he  ?" 

"  Knowest  thou  not  ?"  said  Hereford,  surprised  ;  "  the 
brother,  youngest  brother  I  have  heard,  of  this  same  daring 
Earl  of  Carrick  who  has  so  troubled  our  sovereign." 

"  Nigel,  the  brother  of  Robert !  What,  the  scribe,  the  poet, 
the  dreamer  of  Edward's  court  ?  a  poor  youth,  with  naught 
but  his  beauty  to  recommend  him.  By  all  good  angels,  this 
metamorphosis  soundeth  strangely  !  art  sure  'tis  the  same,  the 
very  same  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  so,"  was  Hereford's  quiet  reply,  and  continu- 
ing his  more  important  queries  with  the  veterans  around,  while 
Lancaster,  his  gayer  spirit  roused  by  this  account  of  Nigel,  de- 
manded every  minute  particular  concerning  him,  that  he  might 
seek  him  hand  to  hand. 

"  Steel  armor  inlaid  with  silver — blue  scarf  across  his  breast, 
embroidered  with  his  cognizance  in  gold — blue  plume,  which 
no  English  sword  hath  ever  soiled — humph !  that's  reserved 
for  me — charger  white  as  the  snow  on  the  ground — sits  his 
steed  as  man  and  horse  were  one.  Well,  gloriously  well,  there 
will  be  no  lack  of  glory  here  !"  he  said,  joyously,  as  one  by 
one  he  slowly  enumerated  the  symbols  by  which  he  might  rec- 


216  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

ognize  his  foe.  So  expeditiously  had  Hereford  conducted  his 
well-arranged  plans,  that  when  his  council  was  over,  it  still 
wanted  two  hours  to  dawn,  and  these  Hereford  commanded 
the  men  who  had  accompanied  him  to  pass  in  repose. 

But  he  himself  partook  not  of  this  repose,  passing  the  re- 
mainder of  the  darkness  in  carefully  reviewing  the  forces  which 
were  still  fresh  and  prepared  for  the  onset,  in  examining  the 
nature  of  the  engines,  and  finally,  still  aided  by  the  noise  of  the 
howling  winds,  marshalled  them  in  formidable  array  in  very 
front  of  the  barbacan,  the  heavy  mist  thrown  onward  by  the 
blasts  effectually  concealing  their  near  approach.  To  Lancaster 
the  command  of  this  party  was  intrusted ;  Hereford  reserving 
to  himself  the  desirable  yet  delicate  task  of  surveying  the 
ground,  confident  that  the  attack  on  the  barbacan  would  de- 
mand the  whole  strength  and  attention  of  the  besieged,  and 
thus  effectually  cover  his  movements. 

His  plan  succeeded.  A  fearful  shout,  seconded  by  a  tre- 
mendous discharge  of  huge  stones,  some  of  which  rattled 
against  the  massive  walls  in  vain,  others  flying  across  the  moat 
and  crushing  some  of  the  men  on  the  inner  wall,  were  the  first 
terrific  sounds  which  unexpectedly  greeted  the  aroused  atten- 
tion of  the  Scotch.  The  armor  of  their  foes  flashing  through 
the  mist,  the  furious  charge  of  the  knights  up  to  the  very  gates 
of  the  barbacan,  seemingly  in  sterner  and  more  compact  array 
than  of  late  had  been  their  wont,  the  immense  body  which  fol- 
lowed them,  appearing  in  that  dim  light  more  numerous  than 
reality,  struck  a  momentary  chill  on  the  Scottish  garrison ;  but 
the  unwonted  emotion  was  speedily  dissipated  by  the  instant 
and  unhesitating  sally  of  Sir  Christopher  Seaton  and  his  brave 
companions.  The  impetuosity  of  their  charge,  the  suddenness 
of  their  appearance,  despite  their  great  disparity  of  numbers, 
caused  the  English  a  moment  to  bear  back,  and  kept  them  in 
full  play  until  Nigel  and  his  men-at-arms,  rushing  over  the  low- 
ered drawbridge,  joined  in  the  strife.  A  brief,  very  brief  inter- 
val of  fighting  convinced  both  the  Scottish  leaders  that  a  mas- 
ter-spirit now  headed  their  foes  ;  that  they  were  struggling  at 
infinitely  greater  odds  than  before ;  that  unity  of  "purpose, 
greater  sagacity,  and  military  skill  were  now  at  work  against 
them,  they  scarce  knew  wherefore,  for  they  recognized  the 
same  war-cry,  the  same  banners ;  there  were  the  same  gallant 
show  of  knights,  for  in  the  desperate  m&l£e  it  was  scarcely  pos- 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  217 

sible  to  distinguish  the  noble  form  of  Lancaster  from  his  fellows, 
although  marking  the  azure  plume,  which  even  Jhen  waved 
high  above  all  others,  though  round  it  the  work  of  death  ever 
waxed  hottest ;  the  efforts  of  the  English  earl  were  all  bent  to 
meet  its  gallant  wearer  hand  to  hand,  but  the  press  of  war  still 
held  them  apart,  though  both  seemed  in  every  part  of  the  field. 
It  was  a  desperate  struggle  man  to  man ;  the  clash  of  swords 
became  one  strange  continuous  mass  of  sound,  instead  of  the 
fearful  distinctness  which  had  marked  their  work  before. 
Shouts  and  cries  mingled  fearfully  with  the  sharper  clang,  the 
heavy  fall  of  man  and  horse,  the  creaking  of  the  engines,  the 
wild  shrieks  of  the  victims  within  the  walls  mangled  by  the 
stones,  or  from  the  survivors  who  witnessed  their  fall — all 
formed  a  din  as  terrific  to  hear,  as  dreadful  to  behold.  With 
even  more  than  their  wonted  bravery  the  Scotch  fought,  but 
with  less  success.  The  charge  of  the  English  was  no  longer 
the  impetuous  fury  of  a  few  hot-headed  young  men,  more  eager 
to  despite  their  cooler  advisers,  than  gain  any  permanent  good 
for  themselves.  Now,  as  one  man  fell  another  stepped  forward 
in  his  place,  and  though  the  slaughter  might  have  been  equal, 
nay,  greater  on  the  side  of  the  besiegers  than  the  besieged,  by 
one  it  was  scarcely  felt,  by  the  other  the  death  of  each  man 
was  even  as  the  loss  of  a  host.  Still,  still  they  struggled  on, 
the  English  obtaining  possession  of  the  palisades,  though  the 
immense  strength  of  the  barbacan  itself,  defended  as  it  was  by 
the  strenuous  efforts  of  the  Scotch,  still  resisted  all  attack ; 
bravely,  nobly,  the  besieged  retreated  within  their  walls,  pell- 
mell  their  foes  dashed  after  them,  and  terrific  was  the  combat 
on  the  drawbridge,  which  groaned  and  creaked  beneath  the 
heavy  tramp  of  man  and  horse.  Many,  wrestling  in  the  fierce- 
ness of  mortal  strife,  fell  together  in  the  moat,  and  encumbered 
with  heavy  armor,  sunk  in  each  other's  arms,  in  the  grim  clasp 
of  death. 

Then  it  was  Lancaster  met  hand  to  hand  the  gallant  foe  he 
sought,  covering  the  retreat  of  his  men,  who  were  bearing  Sir 
Christopher  Seaton,  desperately  wounded,  to  the  castle.  Sir 
Nigel  stood  well-nigh  alone  on  the  bridge ;  his  bright  armor, 
his. foaming  charger  bore  evident  marks  of  the  fray,  but  still  he 
rode  his  steed  firmly  and  unbent,  his  plume  yet  waved  un- 
touched by  the  foeman's  sword.  Nearer  and  nearer  pressed 
forward  the  English  earl,  signing  to  bis  men  to  secure  without 

10 


218  THE   DAYS   OF  BEUCE. 

wounding  his  gallant  foe ;  round  him  they  closely  gathered, 
but  Nigel  evinced  no  sign  either  of  trepidation  or  anger,  fear- 
lessly, gallantly,  he  returned  the  earl's  impetuous  charge,  back- 
ing his  steed  slowly  as  he  did  so,  and  keeping  his  full  front  to 
his  foe.  On,  on  pressed  Lancaster,  even  to  the  postern  ;  a 
bound,  a  shout,  and  scarcely  was  he  aware  that  his  sword  had 
ceased  to  cross  with  Nigel's,  before  he  was  startled  by  the 
heavy  fall  of  the  portcullis,  effectually  dividing  them,  and  ut- 
terly frustrating  further  pursuit.  A  cry  of  rage,  of  disappoint- 
ment broke  from  the  English,  as  they  were  compelled  to  turn 
and  rejoin  their  friends. 

The  strife  still  continued  within  and  without  the  barbacan, 
and  ended  without  much  advantage  on  either  side.  The  pali- 
sades and  outward  barriers  had  indeed  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  English,  which  was  the  first  serious  loss  yet  sustained  by 
the  besieged ;  from  the  barbacan  they  had  gallantly  and  suc- 
cessfully driven  their  foe,  but  that  trifling  success  was  so  coun- 
terbalanced by  the  serious  loss  of  life  amid  the  garrison  which 
it  included,  that  both  Nigel  and  Sir  Christopher  felt  the  next 
attack  must  deliver  it  into  the  hands  of  the  besiegers.  Their 
loss  of  men  was  in  reality  scarcely  a  third  of  the  number  which 
had  fallen  among  the  English,  yet  to  them  that  loss  was  of  in- 
finitely more  consequence  than  to  the  foe.  Bitter  and  painful 
emotions  filled  the  noble  spirit  of  Nigel,  as  he  gazed  on  the 
diminished  number  of  his  men,  and  met  the  ill-suppressed 
groans  and  lamentations  of  those  who  had,  at  the  first  alarm 
of  the  English,  sought  shelter  and  protection  in  the  castle ; 
their  ill-suppressed  entreaties  that  he  would  struggle  no  longer 
against  such  odds  grated  harshly  and  ominously  on  his  ear ; 
but  sternly  he  turned  from  them  to  the  men-at-arms,  and  in 
their  steadfast  bravery  and  joyous  acclamations  found  some 
degree  of  hope. 

Yet  ere  the  day  closed  the  besieged  felt  too  truly  their 
dreams  of  triumph,  of  final  success,  little  short  of  a  miracle 
would  realize.  Their  fancy  that  some  new  and  mightier  spirit 
of  generalship  was  at  work  within  the  English  camp  was  con- 
firmed. Two  distinct  bodies  were  observed  at  work  on  the 
eastern  and  southern  sides  of  the  mount,  the  one  evidently  em- 
ployed in  turning  aside  the  bed  of  the  river,  which  on  that  side 
flowed  instead  of  the  moat  beneath  the  wall,  the  other  in 
endeavoring  to  fill  up  the  moat  by  a  causeway,  so  as  to  admit 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  219 

of  an  easy  access  to  the  outer  wall.  The  progress  they  had 
made  in  their  work  the  first  day,  while  the  attention  of  the 
Scotch  had  been  confined  to  the  attack  on  the  barbacan,  was 
all-sufficient  evidence  of  their  intent ;  and  with  bitter  sorrow 
Sir  Nigel  and  his  brother-in-law  felt  that  their  only  means  of 
any  efficient  defence  lay  in  resigning  the  long -contested  bar- 
bacan to  the  besiegers.  An  important  point  it  certainly  was, 
but  still  to  retain  it  the  walls  overlooking  the  more  silent  efforts 
of  the  English  must  be  left  comparatively  unguarded,  and  they 
might  obtain  an  almost  uninterrupted  and  scarce-contested 
passage  within  the  walls,  while  the  whole  strength  and  atten- 
tion of  the  besieged  were  employed,  as  had  already  been  the 
case,  on  a  point  that  they  had  scarce  a  hope  eventually  to  re- 
tain. With  deep  and  bitter  sorrow  the  alternative  was  proposed 
and  carried  in  a  hurried  council  of  war,  and  so  well  acted  upon, 
that,  despite  the  extreme  watchfulness  of  the  English,  men, 
treasure,  arms,  and  artillery,  all  that  the  strong  towers  con- 
tained, were  conveyed  at  dead  of  night  over  the  drawbridge 
into  the  castle,  and  the  following  morning,  Lancaster,  in  utter 
astonishment,  took  possession  of  the  deserted  fort. 

Perhaps  to  both  parties  this  resolution  was  alike  a  disap- 
pointment and  restraint.  The  English  felt  there  was  no  glory 
in  their  prize,  they  had  not  obtained  possession  through  their 
own  prowess  and  skill ;  and  now  that  the  siege  had  become  so 
much  closer,  and  this  point  of  communication  was  entirely 
stopped,  the  hand-to-hand  combat,  the  glorious  m&Ue,  the  press 
of  war,  which  to  both  parties  had  been  an  excitement,  and 
little  more  than  warlike  recreation,  had  of  course  entirely  ceased, 
but  Hereford  heeded  not  the  disappointment  of  his  men ;  his 
plans  were  progressing  as  he  had  desired,  even  though  his 
workmen  were  greatly  harassed  by  the  continued  discharge  of 
arrows  and  immense  stones  from  the  walls. 

The  desertion  of  the  barbacan  was  an  all-convincing  proof 
of  the  very  small  number  of  the  garrison ;  and  though  the 
immense  thickness  and  solidity  of  the  walls  bespoke  time, 
patience,  and  control,  the  English  earl  never  wavered  from  his 
purpose,  and  by  his  firmness,  his  personal  gallantry,  his  readily- 
bestowed  approbation  on  all  who  demanded  it,  he  contrived  to 
keep  his  more  impatient  followers  steadily  to  their  task ;  while 
Nigel,  to  prevent  the  spirits  of  his  men  from  sinking,  would 
frequently  lead  them  forth  at  night,  and  by  a  sudden  attack 


220  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

annoy  and  often  cut  off  many  of  the  men  stationed  Avithin  the 
barbacan.  The  drawbridge  was  the  precarious  ground  of  many 
a  midnight  strife,  till  the  daring  gallantry  of  Nigel  Bruce  be- 
came the  theme  of  every  tongue  ;  a  gallantry  equalled  only  by 
the  consummate  skill  which  he  displayed,  in  retreating  within 
his  entrenchments  frequently  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man 
either  as  killed  or  wounded.  Often  would  Sir  Christopher 
Seaton,  whose  wounds  still  bound  him  a  most  unwilling  prisoner 
to  his  couch,  entreat  him  to  avoid  such  rash  exposures  of  his 
life,  but  Nigel  only  answered  him  with  a  smile  and  an  assurance 
he  bore  a  charmed  life,  which  the  sword  of  the  foe  could  not 
touch. 

The  siege  had  now  lasted  six  weeks,  and  the  position  of  both 
parties  continued  much  as  we  have  seen,  save  that  the  bed  of 
the  river  had  now  begun  to  appear,  promising  a  free  passage 
to  the  English  on  the  eastern  side,  and  on  the  south  a  broad 
causeway  had  stretched  itself  over  the  moat,  on  which  the 
towers  for  defending  the  ascent  of  the  walls,  mangonels  and 
other  engines,  were  already  safely  bestowed,  and  all  promised 
fair  to  the  besiegers,  whose  numerous  forces  scarcely  appeared 
to  have  suffered  any  diminution,  although  in  reality  some  hun- 
dreds had  fallen ;  while  on  the  side  of  the  besieged,  although 
the  walls  were  still  most  gallantly  manned,  and  the  first  efforts 
of  the  English  to  scale  the  walls  had  been  rendered  ineffectual 
by  huge  stones  hurled  down  upon  them,  still  a  look  of  greater 
care  was  observable  on  the  brows  of  both  officers  and  men ; 
and  provisions  had  now  begun  to  be  doled  out  by  weight  and 
measure,  for  though  the  granaries  still  possessed  stores  sufficient 
for  some  weeks  longer,  the  apparent  determination  of  the 
English  to  permit  no  relaxation  in  their  close  attack,  demanded 
increase  of  caution  on  the  part  of  the  besieged. 

About  this  time  an  event  occurred,  which,  though  compara- 
tively trifling  in  itself,  when  the  lives  of  so  many  were  con- 
cerned, was  fraught  in  effect  with  fatal  consequences  to  all  the 
inmates  of  Kildrummie.  The  conversation  of  the  next  chap- 
ter, however,  will  better  explain  it,  and  to  it  we  refer  our 
readers. 


THE  DAYS   OF  BEUCK.  221 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN  a  circular  apartment  of  the  lower  floor  in  Kildrummie 
keep,  its  stone  floor  but  ill  covered  with  rushes,  and  the  walls 
hung  with  the  darkest  and  rudest  arras,  Sir  Christopher  Seaton 
reclined  on  a  rough  couch,  in  earnest  converse  with  his  brother- 
in-law,  Nigel.  Lady  Seaton  was  also  within  the  chamber,  at 
some  little  distance  from  the  knights,  engaged  in  preparing  lint 
and  healing  ointments,  with  the  aid  of  an  attendant,  for  tto 
wounded,  and  ready  at  the  first  call  to  rise  and  attend  them, 
as  she  had  done  unremittingly  during  the  continuance  of  the 
siege.  The  countenances  of  both  warriors  were  slightly  changed 
from  the  last  time  we  beheld  them.  The  severity  of  his  wounds 
had  shed  a  cast  almost  of  age  on  the  noble  features  of  Seaton, 
but  care  and  deep  regret  had' mingled  with  that  pallor;  and 
perhaps  on  the  face  of  Nigel,  which  three  short  weeks  before 
had  beamed  forth  such  radiant  hope,  the  change  was  more 
painful.  He  had  escaped  with  but  slight  flesh  wounds,  but 
disappointment  and  anxiety  were  now  vividly  impressed  on  his 
features ;  the  smooth  brow  would  unconsciously  wrinkle  in 
deep  and  unexpressed  thought ;  the  lip,  to  which  love,  joy,  and 
hope  alone  had  once  seemed  natural,  now  often  compressed, 
and  his  eye  flashed,  till  his  whole  countenance  seemed  stern, 
not  with  the  sternness  of  a  tyrannical,  changed  and  chafing 
mood — no,  'twas  the  sternness  most  fearful  to  behold  in  youth, 
of  thought,  deep,  bitter,  whelming  thought ;  and  sterner  even 
than  it  had  been  yet  was  the  expression  on  his  features  as  he 
spoke  this  day  with  Seaton. 

"  He  must  die,"  were  the  words  which  broke  a  long  and 
anxious  pause,  and  fell  in  deep  yet  emphatic  tones  from  the 
lips  of  Seaton '  "  yes,  die !  Perchance  the  example  may  best 
arrest  the  spreading  contagion  of  treachery  around  us." 

"  I  know  not,  I  fear  not ;  yet  as  thou  sayest  he  must  die," 
replied  Nigel,  speaking  as  in  deep  thought ;  "  would  that  the 
noble  enemy,  who  thus  scorned  to  benefit  by  the  offered  treason, 
had  done  on  him  the  work  of  death  himself.  I  love  not  the 
necessity  nor  the  deed." 

"  Yet  it  must  be,  Nigel.  Is  there  aught  else  save  death,  the 
death  of  a  traitor,  which  can  sufficiently  chastise  a  crime  like 


222  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

this  ?  Well  was  it  the  knave  craved  speech  of  Hereford  him- 
self. I  marvel  whether  the  majesty  of  England  had  resisted  a 
like  temptation." 

"  Seaton,  he  would  not,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  I 
knew  him,  aye,  studied  him  in  his  own  court,  and  though  I 
doubt  not  there  was  a  time  when  chivalry  was  strongest  in  the 
breast  of  Edward,  it  was  before  ambition's  fatal  poison  had 
corroded  his  heart.  Now  he  would  deem  all  things  honorable 
in  the  art  of  war,  aye,  even  the  delivery  of  a  castle  through 
the  treachery  of  a  knave." 

"  And  he  hath  more  in  yon  host  to  think  with  him  than  with 
the  noble  Hereford,"  resumed  Sir  Christopher ;  "  yet  this  is  but 
idle  parley,  and  concerneth  but  little  our  present  task.  la 
what  temper  do  our  men  receive  the  tidings  of  this  foul 
treason  ?" 

"  Our  own  brave  fellows  call  aloud  for  vengeance  on  the 
traitor;  nay,  had  I  not  rescued  him  from  their  hands,  they 
would  have  torn  him  limb  from  limb  in  their  rage.  But  there 
are  others,  Seaton — ^alas  !  the  more  numerous  body  now — and 
they  speak  not,  but  with  moody  brows  and  gloomy  mutterings 
prowl  up  and  down  the  courts." 

"  Aye,  the  coward  hearts,"  answered  Seaton,  "  their  good 
wishes  went  with  him,  and  but  low- breathed  curses  follow  our 
efforts  for  their  freedom.  Yes,  it  must  be,  if  it  be  but  as  a 
warning  unto  others.  See  to  it,  Nigel ;  an  hour  before  the 
set  of  sun  he  dies." 

A  brief  pause  followed  his  words,  whose  low  sternness  of 
tone  betrayed  far  more  than  the  syllables  themselves.  Both 
warriors  remained  a  while  plunged  in  moody  thought,  which 
Seaton  was  the  first  to  break. 

"  And  how  went  the  last  attack  and  defence  ?"  he  asked ; 
"  they  told  me,  bravely." 

"  Aye,  so  bravely,  that  could  we  but  reinforce  our  fighting 
men,  aided  as  we  are  by  impenetrable  walls,  we  might  dream 
still  of  conquest ;  they  have  gained  little  as  yet,  despite  their 
nearer  approach.  Hand  to  hand  we  have  indeed  struggled  on 
the  walls,  and  hurled  back  our  foremost  foes  in  their  own  in- 
trenchments.  Our  huge  fragments  of  rocks  have  dealt  destruc- 
tion on  one  of  their  towers,  crushing  all  who  manned  it  beneath 
the  ruins." 

"  And  I  lie  here  when  such  brave  work  is  going  on  beside 


THE   DATS  OF  BRUCE.  223 

me,  even  as  a  bedridden  monk  or  coward  layman,  when  my 
whole  soul  is  in  the  fight,"  said  the  knight,  bitterly,  and  half 
springing  from  his  couch.  "  When  will  these  open  wounds — 
to  the  foul  fiend  with  them  and  those  who  gave  them  ! — when 
will  they  let  me  mount  and  ride  again  as  best  befits  a  warrior  ? 
Better  slain  at  once  than  lie  here  a  burden,  not  a  help — taking 
from  those  whose  gallant  efforts  need  it  more  the  food  we  may 
not  have  for  long.  I  will  not  thus  be  chained ;  I'll  to  the  ac- 
tion, be  my  life  the  forfeit!" 

He  sprung  up,  and  for  a  moment  stood  upon  his  feet,  but 
with  a  low  groan  of  pain  instantly  fell  back,  the  dew  of  weak- 
ness gathering  on  his  brow.  Lady  Seaton  was  at  his  side  on 
the  instant  to  bathe  his  temples  and  his  hands,  yet  without  one 
reproachful  word,  for  she  knew  the  anguish  it  was  to  his  brave 
heart  to  lie  thus  disabled,  when  every  loyal  hand  was  needed 
for  his  country. 

"  Nigel,  I  would  that  I  might  join  thee.  Remember,  'tis  no 
mean  game  we  play ;  we  hold  not  out  as  marauding  chieftains 
against  a  lawful  king;  we  struggle  not  in  defence  of  petty 
rights,  of  doubtful  privileges.  Tis  for  Scotland,  for  King  Rob- 
ert still  we  strive.  Did  this  castle  hold  out,  aye,  compel  the 
foe  to  raise  the  siege,  much,  much  would  be  done  for  Scotland. 
Others  would  do  as  we  have  done ;  many,  whose  strongholds 
rest  in  English  hands,  would  rise  and  expel  the  foe.  Had  we 
but  reinforcements  of  men  and  stores,  all  might  still  be  well." 

"Aye,"  answered  Nigel,  bitterly,  "but  with  all  Scotland 
crushed  'neath  English  chains,  her  king  and  his  bold  patriots 
fugitives  and  exiles,  ourselves  the  only  Scottish  force  in  arms, 
the  only  Scottish  castle  which  resists  the  tyrant,  how  may  this 
be,  whence  may  come  increase  of  force,  of  store  ?  Seaton, 
Seaton,  thine  are  bright  dreams — would  that  they  were  real." 

"  Wouldst  thou  then  give  up  at  once,  and  strive  no  more  ? 
It  cannot  be." 

"  Never !"  answered  his  companion,  passionately.  "  Ere 
English  feet  shall  cross  these  courts  and  English  colors  wave 
above  these  towers,  the  blood  of  the  defenders  must  flow  be- 
neath their  steps.  They  gain  not  a  yard  of  earth  save  at  the 
bright  sword's  point ;  not  a  rood  of  grass  unstained  by  Scottish 
blood.  Give  up !  not  till  my  arm  can  wield  no  sword,  my 
voice  no  more  shout  '  Forward  for  the  Bruce  !'  " 

"  Then  we  will  hope  on,  dream  on,  Nigel,  and  despair  not," 


224  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

replied  Seaton,  in  the  same  earnest  tone.  "  We  know  not  yet 
what  may  be,  and,  improbable  as  it  seems  now,  succors  may 
yet  arrive.  How  long  doth  last  the  truce  ?" 

"  For  eighteen  hours,  two  of  which  have  passed." 

"  Didst  thou  demand  it  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Nigel.  "  It  was  proffered  by  the  earl,  as 
needed  for  a  strict  examination  of  the  traitor  Evan  Roy,  and 
accepted  in  the  spirit  with  which  it  was  offered." 

"  Thou  didst  well ;  and  the  foul  traitor — where  hast  thou 
lodged  him  ?" 

"  In  the  western  turret,  strongly  guarded.  I  would  not  seek 
thy  counsel  until  I  had  examined  and  knew  the  truth." 

"And  thine  own  judgment?" 

"  Was  as  thine.     It  is  an  ill  necessity,  yet  it  must  be." 

"  Didst  pronounce  his  sentence  ?" 

Nigel  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"And  how  was  it  received?" 

"  In  the  same  sullen  silence  on  the  part  of  the  criminal  as 
he  had  borne  during  his  examination.  Methought  a  low  mur- 
mur of  discontent  escaped  from  some  within  the  hall,  but  it  was 
drowned  in  the  shout  of  approbation  from  the  men-at-arms, 
and  the  execrations  they  lavished  on  the  traitor  as  they  bore 
him  away,  so  I  heeded  it  not." 

"  But  thou  wilt  heed  it,"  said  a  sweet  voice  beside  him,  and 
Agnes,  who  had  just  entered  the  chamber,  laid  her  hand  on 
his  arm  and  looked  beseechingly  in  his  face.  "  Dearest  Nigel, 
I  come  a  pleader." 

"  And  for  whom,  my  beloved  ?"  he  asked,  his  countenance 
changing  into  its  own  soft  beautiful  expression  as  he  gazed  on 
her.  "  What  can  mine  Agnes  ask  that  Nigel  may  not  grant  ?" 

"  Nay,  I  am  no  pleader  for  myself,"  she  said  ;  "  I  come  on 
the  part  of  a  wretched  wife  and  aged  mother,  beseeching  the 
gift  of  life." 

"  And  for  a  traitor,  Agnes  ?" 

"  I  think  of  him  but  as  a  husband  and  son,  dearest  Nigel," 
she  said,  more  timidly,  for  his  voice  was  stern.  "  They  tell  me 
he  is  condemned  to  death,  and  his  wretched  wife  and  mother 
besought  my  influence  with  thee ;  and  indeed  it  needed  little 
entreaty,  for  when  death  is  so  busy  around  us,  when  in  this 
fearful  war  we  see  the  best  and  bravest  of  our  friends  fall  vic- 
tims every  day,  oh,  I  would  beseech  you  to  spare  life  when  it 


THE  DATS  OF  BRUCE.  225 

may  be.  Dearest,  dearest  Nigel,  have  mercy  on  this  wretched 
man ;  traitor  as  he  is,  oh,  do  not  take  his  life — do  not  let  thy 
lips  sentence  him  to  death.  Wilt  thou  not  be  merciful  ?" 

"  If  the  death  of  one  man  will  preserve  the  lives  of  many, 
how  may  that  one  be  spared  ?"  said  Sir  Nigel,  folding  the 
sweet  pleader  closer  to  him,  though  his  features  spoke  no  re- 
laxation of  his  purpose.  "  Sweet  Agnes,  do  not  ask  this,  give 
me  not  the  bitter  pain  of  refusing  aught  to  thee.  Thou  know- 
est  not  all  the  mischief  and  misery  which  pardon  to  a  traitor 
such  as  this  will  do ;  thou  listenest  only  to  thy  kind  heart  and 
the  sad  pleadings  of  those  who  love  this  man.  Now  listen  to 
me,  beloved,  and  judge  thyself.  Did  I  believe  a  pardon  would 
bring  back  the  traitor  to  a  sense  of  duty,  to  a  consciousness  of 
his  great  crime — did  I  believe  giving  life  to  him  would  deter 
others  from  the  same  guilt,  I  should  scarce  wait  even  for  thy 
sweet  pleading  to  give  him  both  liberty  and  life ;  but  I  know 
him  better  than  thou,  mine  Agnes.  He  is  one  of  those  dark, 
discontented,  rebellious  spirits,  that  never  rest  in  stirring  up 
others  to  be  like  them ;  who  would  employ  even  the  life  I  gave 
him  to  my  own  destruction,  and  that  of  the  brave  and  faithful 
soldiers  with  me." 

"  But  send  him  hence,  dearest  Nigel,"  still  entreated  Agnes. 
"  Give  him  life,  but  send  him  from  the  castle ;  will  not  this  re- 
move the  danger  of  his  influence  with  others  ?" 

"  And  give  him  field  and  scope  to  betray  us  yet  again,  sweet 
one.  It  were  indeed  scorning  the  honorable  counsel  of  Here- 
ford to  act  thus ;  for  trust  me,  Agnes,  there  are  not  many  amid 
our  foes  would  resist  temptation  as  he  hath  done." 

"  Yet  would  not  keeping  him  close  prisoner  serve  thee  as  well 
as  death,  Nigel  ?  Bethink  thee,  would  it  not  spare  the  ill  of 
taking  life  ?" 

"  Dearest,  no,"  he  answered.  "  There  are  many,  alas !  too 
many  within  these  walls  who  need  an  example  of  terror  to  keep 
them  to  their  duty.  They  will  see  that  treachery  avails  not 
with  the  noble  Hereford,  and  that,  discovered  by  me,  it  hath  no 
escape  from  death.  If  this  man  be,  as  I  imagine,  in  league 
with  other  contentious  spirits — for  he  could  scarce  hope  to 
betray  the  castle  into  the  hands  of  the  English  without  some 
aid  within — his  fate  may  strike  such  terror  into  other  traitor 
hearts  that  their  designs  will  be  abandoned.  Trust  me,  dearest, 
I  do  not  do  this  deed  of  justice  without  deep  regret ;  I  grieve 

10* 


226  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

for  the  necessity  even  as  the  deed,  and  yet  it  must  be ;  and 
bitter  as  it  is  to  refuse  thee  aught,  indeed  I  cannot  grant  thy 
boon." 

"  Yet  hear  me  once  more,  Nigel.  Simple  and  ignorant  as  I 
am,  I  cannot  answer  such  arguments  as  thine ;  yet  may  it  not 
be  that  this  deed  of  justice,  even  while  it  strikes  terror,  may 
also  excite  the  desire  for  revenge,  and  situated  as  Ave  are  were 
it  not  better  to  avoid  all  such  bitterness,  such  heart-burnings 
amongst  the  people  ?" 

"  We  must  brave  it,  dearest,"  answered  Nigel,  firmly.  "  The 
direct  line  of  justice  and  of  duty  may  not  be  turned  aside  for 
such  fears  as  these." 

"  Nor  do  I  think  they  have  foundation,"  continued  Sir  Chris- 
topher Seaton.  "Thou  hast  pleaded  well  and  kindly,  gentle 
maiden,  yet  gladly  as  we  would  do  aught  to  pleasure  thee,  this 
that  thou  hast  asked,  alas  !  must  not  be.  The  crime  itself  de- 
mands punishment,  and  even  could  we  pardon  that,  duty  to  our 
country,  our  king,  ourselves,  calls  loudly  for  his  death,  lest  his 
foul  treachery  should  spread." 

The  eyes  of  the  maiden  filled  with  tears. 

"  Then  my  last  hope  is  over,"  she  said,  sadly.  "  I  looked  to 
thy  influence,  Sir  Christopher,  to  plead  for  me,  even  if  mine 
own  supplications  should  fail ;  and  thou  judgest  even  as  Nigel, 
not  as  my  heart  could  wish." 

"  We  judge  as  men  and  soldiers,  gentle  maiden ;  as  men  who, 
charged  with  a  most  solemn  responsibility,  dare  listen  to  naught 
save  the  voice  of  justice,  however  loudly  mercy  pleads." 

"  And  didst  thou  think,  mine  Agnes,  if  thy  pleading  was  of 
no  avail,  the  entreaty  of  others  could  move  me  ?"  whispered 
Nigel,  in  a  voice  which,  though  tender,  was  reproachful. 
"  Dearest  and  best,  oh,  thou  knowest  not  the  pang  it  is  to  re- 
fuse thee  even  this,  and  to  feel  my  words  have  filled  those  eyes 
with  tears.  Say  thou  wilt  not  deem  me  cruel,  abiding  by  jus- 
tice when  there  is  room  for  mercy  ?" 

"I  know  thee  better  than  to  judge  thee  thus,"  answered 
Agnes,  tearfully  ;  "  the  voice  of  duty  must  have  spoken  loudly 
to  urge  thee  to  this  decision,  and  I  may  not  dispute  it ;  yet 
would  that  death  could  be  averted.  There  was  madness  in 
that  woman's  eyes,"  and  she  shuddered  as  she  spoke. 

"  Of  whom  speakest  thou,  love  ?"  Nigel  asked,  and  Seaton 
looked  the  question. 


THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  227 

"  Of  his  wife,"  she  replied.  "  She  came  to  me  distracted, 
and  used  such  dreadful  words,  menaces  and  threats  they  seem- 
ed ;  but  his  mother,  more  composed,  assured  me  they  meant 
nothing,  they  were  but  the  ravings  of  distress,  and  yet  I  fear  to 
look  on  her  again  without  his  pardon." 

"  And  thou  shalt  not,  my  beloved  ;  these  are  not  scenes  and 
words  for  such  as  thee.  Rest  here  with  Christine  and  good 
Sir  Christopher ;  to  tend  and  cheer  a  wounded  knight  is  a 
fitter  task  for  thee,  sweet  one,  than  thus  to  plead  a  traitor's 
cause." 

Pressing  his  lips  upon  her  brow  as  he  spoke,  he  placed  her 
gently  on  a  settle  by  Sir  Christopher  ;  then  crossing  the  apart- 
ment, he  paused  a  moment  to  whisper  to  Lady  Seaton. 

"  Look  to  her,  my  dear  sister  ;  she  has  been  terrified,  though 
she  would  conceal  it.  Let  her  not  leave  thee  till  this  fatal  duty 
is  accomplished." 

Lady  Seaton  assured  him  of  her  compliance,  and  he  left  the 
apartment. 

He  had  scarcely  quitted  the  postern  before  he  himself  en- 
countered Jean  Roy,  a  woman  who,  even  in  her  mildest  mo- 
ments, evinced  very  little  appearance  of  sanity,  and  who  now, 
from  her  furious  and  distracting  gestures,  seemed  wrought  up 
to  no  ordinary  pitch  of  madness.  She  kept  hovering  round 
him,  uttering  menaces  and  entreaties  in  one  and  the  same 
breath,  declaring  one  moment  that  her  husband  was  no  traitor, 
and  had  only  done  what  every  true-hearted  Scotsman  ought 
to  do,  if  he  would  save  himself  and  those  he  loved  from  de- 
struction ;  the  next,  piteously  acknowledging  his  crime,  and 
wildly  beseeching  mercy.  For  a  while  Nigel  endeavored, 
calmly  and  soothingly,  to  reason  with  her,  but  it  was  of  no 
avail :  louder  and  fiercer  became  her  curses  and  imprecations  ; 
beseeching  heaven  to  hurl  down  all  its  maledictions  upon  him 
and  the  woman  he  loved,  and  refuse  him  mercy  when  he  most 
needed  it.  Perceiving  her  violence  becoming  more  and  more 
outrageous,  Nigel  placed  her  in  charge  of  two  of  his  men-at- 
arms,  desiring  them  to  treat  her  kindly,  but  not  to  lose  sight 
of  her,  and  keep  her  as  far  as  possible  from  the  scene  about  to 
be  enacted.  She  was  dragged  away,  struggling  furiously,  and 
Nigel  felt  his  heart  sink  heavier  within  him.  It  was  not  that 
he  wavered  in  his  opinion,  that  he  believed,  situated  as  he  was, 
it  was  better  to  spare  the  traitor's  life  than  excite  to  a  flame 


228  THE  DATS   OF   BEUCE. 

the  already  aroused  and  angered  populace.  He  thought  in- 
deed terror  might  do  much  ;  but  whether  it  was  the  entreating 
words  of  Agnes,  or  the  state  of  the  unhappy  Jean,  there  had 
come  upon  him  a  dim  sense  of  impending  ill ;  an  impression 
that  the  act  of  justice  about  to  be  performed  would  bring  mat- 
ters to  a  crisis,  and  the  ruin  of  the  garrison  be  consummated, 
ere  he  was  aware  it  had  begun.  The  shadow  of  the  future  ap- 
peared to  have  enfolded  him,  but  still  he  wavered  not.  The 
hours  sped  :  his  preparations  were  completed,  and  at  the  time 
appointed  by  Seaton,  with  as  much  of  awful  solemnity  as  cir- 
cumstances would  admit,  the  soul  of  the  traitor  was  launched 
into  eternity.  Men,  women,  and  children  had  gathered  round 
the  temporary  scaffold  ;  every  one  within  the  castle,  save  the 
maimed  and  wounded,  thronged  to  that  centre  court,  and 
cheers  and  shouts,  and  groans  and  curses,  mingled  strangely 
on  the  air. 

Clad  in  complete  steel,  but  bareheaded,  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  had 
witnessed  the  act  of  justice  his  voice  had  pronounced,  and, 
after  a  brief  pause,  he  stood  forward  on  the  scaffold,  and  in  a 
deep,  rich  voice  addressed  the  multitude  ere  they  separated. 
Eloquently,  forcibly,  he  spoke  of  the  guilt,  the  foul  guilt  of 
treachery,  now  when  Scotland  demanded  all  men  to  join  to- 
gether hand  and  heart  as  one — now  when  the  foe  was  at  their 
gates  ;  when,  if  united,  they  might  yet  bid  defiance  to  the  ty- 
rant, who,  if  they  were  defeated,  would  hold  them  slaves.  He 
addressed  them  as  Scottish  men  and  freemen,  as  soldiers,  hus- 
bands, and  fathers,  as  children  of  the  brave,  who  welcomed 
death  with  joy,  rather  than  life  in  slavery  and  degradation ; 
and  when  his  words  elicited  a  shout  of  exultation  and  applause 
from  the  greater  number,  he  turned  his  eye  on  the  group  of 
malcontents,  and  sternly  and  terribly  bade  them  beware  of  a 
fate  similar  to  that  which  they  had  just  witnessed  ;  for  the  gal- 
lant Earl  of  Hereford,  he  said,  would  deal  with  all  Scottish 
traitors  as  with  Evan  Roy,  and  once  known  as  traitors  within 
the  castle  walls,  he  need  not  speak  their  doom,  for  they  had 
witnessed  it;  and  then  changing  his  tone,  frankly  and  beseech- 
ingly he  conjured  them  to  awake  from  the  dull,  sluggish  sleep 
of  indifference  and  fear,  to  put  forth  their  energies  as  men,  as 
warriors;  their  country,  their  king,  their  families,  called  on 
them,  and  would  they  not  hear  ?  He  bade  them  arise,  awake 
to  their  duty,  and  all  that  had  been  should  never  tie  recalled. 


THE  DAYS   OF  BEUCE.  229 

He  spoke  with  a  brief  yet  mighty  eloquence  that  seemed  to 
carry  conviction  with  it.  Many  a  stern  face  and  darkened  brow 
relaxed,  and  there  was  hope  in  many  a  patriot  breast  as  that 
group  dispersed,  and  all  was  once  more  martial  bustle  on  the 
walls. 

"  Well  and  wisely  hast  thou  spoken,  my  son,"  said  the  aged 
Abbot  of  Scone,  who  had  attended  the  criminal's  last  moments, 
and  now,  with  Nigel,  sought  the  keep.  "  Thy  words  have 
moved  those  rebellious  spirits,  have  calmed  the  rising  tempest 
even  as  oil  flung  on  the  troubled  waves ;  thine  eloquence  was 
even  as  an  angel  voice  'mid  muttering  fiends.  Yet  thou  art 
still  sad,  still  anxious.  My  son,  this  should  not  be." 

"  It  must  be,  father,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  I  have 
looked  beyond  that  oily  surface  and  see  naught  save  darker 
storms  and  fiercer  tempests  ;  those  spirits  need  somewhat  more 
than  a  mere  voice.  Father,  reproach  me  not  as  mistrusting 
the  gracious  heaven  in  whose  keeping  lie  our  earthly  fates.  I 
know  the  battle  is  not  to  the  strong,  'tis  with  the  united,  the 
faithful,  and  those  men  are  neither.  My  words  have  stirred 
them  for  the  moment,  as  a  pebble  flung  'mid  the  troubled 
waters — a  few  brief  instants  and  all  trace  is  passed,  we  see 
naught  but  the  blackened  wave.  But  speak  not  of  these 
things  ;  my  trust  is  higher  than  earth,  and  let  man  work 
his  will." 

Another  week  passed,  and  the  fierce  struggle  continued,  al- 
ternating success,  one  day  with  the  besiegers,  the  next  with 
the  besieged.  The  scene  of  action  was  now  principally  on 
the  walls — a  fearful  field,  for  there  was  no  retreat — and  often 
the  combatants,  entwined  in  a  deadly  struggle,  fell  together 
into  the  moat.  Still  there  were  no  signs  of  wavering  on  either 
side,  still  did  the  massive  walls  give  no  sign  of  yielding  to  the 
tremendous  and  continued  discharge  of  heavy  stones,  that 
against  battlements  less  strongly  constructed  must  long  ere 
this  have  dealt  destruction  and  inevitable  mischief  to  the  be- 
sieged. One  tower,  commanding  the  causeway  across  the 
moat  and  its  adjoining  platform  on  the  wall,  had  indeed  been 
taken  by  the  English,  and  was  to  them  a  decided  advantage, 
but  still  their  further  progress  even  to  the  next  tower  was  lin- 
gering and  dubious,  and  it  appeared  evident  to  both  parties 
that,  from  the  utter  impossibility  of  the  Scotch  obtaining  sup- 
plies of  provision  and  men,  success  must  finally  attend  the  Eng- 


230  THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE. 

lish  ;  they  would  succeed  more  by  the  effects  of  famine  than 
by  their  swords. 

It  was,  as  we  have  said,  seven  days  after  the  execution  of 
the  traitor  Roy.  A  truce  for  twelve  hours  had  been  concluded 
with  the  English,  at  the  request  of  Sir  Nigel  Bruce,  and  safe 
conduct  granted  by  the  Earl  of  Hereford  to  those  men,  wo- 
men, and  children  of  the  adjoining  villages  who  chose  even  at 
this  hour  to  leave  the  castle,  but  few,  a  very  few  took  advan- 
tage of  this  permission,  and  these  were  mostly  the  widows  and 
children  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the  siege ;  a  fact  which 
caused  some  surprise,  as  the  officers  and  men-at-arms  imagined 
it  would  have  been  eagerly  seized  upon  by  all  those  contentious 
spirits  who  had  appeared  so  desirous  of  a  league  with  England. 
A  quiet  smile  slightly  curled  the  lips  of  Nigel  as  this  informa- 
tion was  reported  to  him — a  smile  as  of  a  mind  prepared  for 
and  not  surprised  at  what  he  heard  ;  but  when  left  alone,  the 
smile  was  gone,  he  folded  his  arms  on  his  breast,  his  head  was 
slightly  bent  forward,  but  had  there  been  any  present  to  have 
remarked  him,  they  would  have  seen  his  features  move  and 
work  with  the  intensity  of  internal  emotion.  Some  mighty 
struggle  he  was  enduring  ;  something  there  was  passing  at  his 
very  heart,  for  when  recalled  from  that  trance  by  the  heavy 
bell  of  the  adjoining  church  chiming  the  hour  of  five,  and  he 
looked  up,  there  were  large  drops  of  moisture  on  his  brow,  and 
his  beautiful  eye  seemed  for  the  moment  sti'ained  and  blood- 
shot. He  paced  the  chamber  slowly  and  pensively  till  there 
was  no  outward  mark  of  agitation,  and  then  he  sought  for 
Agnes. 

She  was  alone  in  an  upper  chamber  of  the  keep,  looking  out 
from  the  narrow  casement  on  a  scene  of  hill  and  vale,  and 
water,  which,  though  still  wintry  from  the  total  absence  of  leaf 
and  flower,  was  yet  calm  and  beautiful  in  the  declining  sun,  and 
undisturbed  by  the  fearful  scenes  and  sounds  which  met  the 
glance  and  ear  on  every  other  side,  seemed  even  as  a  paradise 
of  peace.  It  had  been  one  of  those  mild,  soft  days  of  Febru- 
ary, still  more  rare  in  Scotland  than  in  England,  and  on  the 
heart  and  sinking  frame  of  Agnes  its  influence  had  fallen,  till, 
almost  unconsciously,  she  wept.  The  step  of  Nigel  caused  her 
hastily  to  dash  these  tears  aside,  and  as  he  stood  by  her  and 
silently  folded  his  arm  around  her,  she  looked  up  in  his  face 
with  a  smile.  He  sought  to  return  it,  but  the  sight  of  such 


THE   DATS   OF   BBUCE.  231 

emotion,  trifling  as  it  was,  caused  his  heart  to  sink  with  inde- 
scribable fear  ;  his  lip  quivered,  as  utterly  to  prevent  the  words 
he  sought  to  speak,  and  as  he  clasped  her  to  his  bosom  and 
bent  his  head  on  hers,  a  low  yet  instantly  suppressed  moan 
burst  from  him. 

"  Nigel,  dearest  Nigel,  what  has  chanced  ?  Oh,  speak  to 
me  !"  she  exclaimed,  clasping  his  hand  in  both  hers,  and  gazing 
wildly  in  his  face.  "  Thou  art  wounded  or  ill,  or  wearied  unto 
death.  Oh,  let  me  undo  this  heavy  armor,  dearest ;  seek  but 
a  brief  interval  of  rest.  Speak  to  me,  I  know  thou  art  not 
well." 

"  It  is  but  folly,  my  beloved,  a  momentary  pang  that  weak- 
ness caused.  Indeed,  thy  fears  are  causeless ;  I  am  well,  quite 
well,"  he  answered,  struggling  with  himself,  and  subduing 
with  an  effort  his  emotion.  "  Mine  own  Agnes,  thou  wilt  not 
doubt  me ;  look  not  upon  me  so  tearfully,  'tis  passed,  'tis  over 
now." 

"  And  thou  wilt  not  tell  me  that  which  caused  it,  Nigel  ? 
Hast  thou  aught  of  suffering  which  thou  fearest  to  tell  thine 
Agnes  ?  Oh  !  do  not  fear  it ;  weak,  childlike  as  I  am,  my  soul 
will  find  strength  for  it." 

"  And  thou  shalt  know  all,  all  in  a  brief  while,"  he  said,  her 
sweet  pleading  voice  rendering  the  task  of  calmness  more  diffi- 
cult. "  Yet  tell  me  first  thy  thoughts,  my  love.  Methought 
thy  gaze  was  on  yon  peaceful  landscape  as  I  entered,  and  yet 
thine  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears." 

"And  yet  I  know  not  wherefore,"  she  replied,  "save  the 
yearnings  for  peace  were  stronger,  deeper  than  they  should  be, 
and  I  pictured  a  cot  where  love  might  dwell  in  yon  calm  valley, 
and  wished  that  this  fierce  strife  was  o'er." 

"  'Tis  in  truth  no  scene  for  thee,  mine  own.  I  know,  I  feel 
thou  pinest  for  freedom,  for  the  fresh,  pure,  stainless  air  of  the 
mountain,  the  valley's  holy  calm  ;  thine  ear  is  sick  with  the  fell 
sounds  that  burst  upon  it;  thine  eye  must  turn  in  loathing 
from  this  fierce  strife.  Agnes,  mine  own  Agnes,  is  it  not  so  ? 
would  it  not  be  happiness,  aye,  heaven's  own  bliss,  to  seek 
some  peaceful  home  far,  far  away  from  this  ?" 

He  spoke  hurriedly  and  more  passionately  than  was  his  wont, 
but  Agnes  only  answered — 

"  With  thee,  Nigel,  it  were  bliss  indeed." 

"  With  me,"  he  said  ;  "  and  couldst  thou  not  be  happy  were 


232  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

I  not  at  thy  side  ?  Listen  to  me,  beloved,"  and  his  voice  be 
came  as  solemnly  earnest  as  it  had  previously  been  hurried 
"  I  sought  thee,  armed  I  thought  with  fortitude  sufficient  foi 
the  task  ;  sought  thee,  to  beseech,  implore  thee  to  seek  safety 
and  peace  for  a  brief  while  apart  from  me,  till  these  fearfifi 
scenes  are  passed.  Start  not,  and  oh,  do  not  look  upon  mo. 
thus.  I  know  all  that  strength  of  nerve,  of  soul,  which  bids 
thee  care  not  for  the  dangers  round  thee.  I  know  that  where 
I  am  thy  loving  spirit  feels  no  fear ;  but  oh,  Agnes,  for  my 
sake,  if  not  for  thine  own,  consent  to  fly  ere  it  be  too  late  ;  con- 
sent to  seek  safety  far  from  this  fatal  tower.  Let  me  not  feel 
that  on  thee,  on  thee,  far  dearer  than  my  life,  destruction,  and 
misery,  and  suffering  in  a  thousand  fearful  shapes  may  fall. 
Let  me  but  feel  thee  safe,  far  from  this  terrible  scene,  and  then, 
come  what  will,  it  can  have  no  pang." 

"  And  thee,"  murmured  the  startled  girl,  on  whose  ear  the 
words  of  Nigel  had  fallen  as  with  scarce  half  their  meaning, 
"  thee,  wouldst  thou  bid  me  leave  thee,  to  strive  on,  suffer 
on,  and  oh,  merciful  heaven !  perchance  fall  alone  ?  Nigel, 
Nigel,  how  may  this  be  ?  are  we  not  one,  only  one,  and  how 
may  I  dwell  in  safety  without  thee — how  mayest  thou  suffer 
without  me?" 

"  Dearest  and  best !"  he  answered,  passionately,  "  oh,  that 
we  were  indeed  one ;  that  the  voice  of  heaven  had  bound  us 
one,  long,  long  ere  this !  and  yet — no,  no,  'tis  better  thus,"  and 
again  he  struggled  with  emotion,  and  spoke  calmly.  "  Agnes, 
beloved,  precious  as  thou  art  in  these  hours  of  anxiety,  dear, 
clearer  than  ever,  in  thy  clinging,  changeless  love,  yet  tempt 
me  not  selfishly  to  retain  thee  by  my  side,  when  liberty,  and 
life,  and  joy  await  thee  beyond  these  fated  walls.  Thy  path  is 
secured ;  all  that  can  assist,  can  accelerate  thy  flight  waits  but 
thy  approval.  The  dress  of  a  minstrel  boy  is  procured,  and 
will  completely  conceal  and  guard  thee  through  the  English 
camp.  Our  faithful  friend,  the  minstrel  seer,  will  be  thy 
guide,  and  lead  thee  to  a  home  of  peace  and  safety,  until  my 
brother's  happier  fortune  dawns ;  he  will  guard  and  love  thee 
for  thine  own  and  for  my  sake.  Speak  to  me,  beloved ;  thou 
knowest  this  good  old  man,  and  I  so  trust  him  that  I  have  no 
fear  for  thee.  Oh,  do  not  pause,  and  ere  this  truce  be  over 
let  me,  let  me  feel  that  thou  art  safe  and  free,  and  may  in  time 
be  happy." 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  233 

"  In  time,"  she  repeated  slowly,  as  if  to  herself,  and  then, 
rousing  herself  from  that  stupor  of  emotion,  looked  up  with  a 
countenance  on  which  a  sudden  glow  had  spread.  "  And  why 
hast  thou  so  suddenly  resolved  on  this  ?"  she  asked,  calmly ; 
"  why  shouldst  thou  fear  for  me  more  now  than  hitherto,  dear- 
est Nigel  ?  Hath  not  the  danger  always  been  the  same,  and 
yet  thou  ne'er  hast  breathed  of  parting  ?  are  not  thy  hopes 
the  same  —  what  hath  chanced  unknown  to  me,  that  thou 
speakest  and  lookest  thus  ?  tell  me,  ere  thou  urgest  more." 

"  I  will  tell  thee  what  I  fear,  my  love,"  he  answered,  re- 
assured by  her  firmness ;  "  much  that  is  seen  not,  guessed  not 
by  my  comrades.  They  were  satisfied  that  my  appeal  had 
had  its  effect,  and  the  execution  of  Evan  Roy  was  attended 
with  no  disturbance,  no  ill  will  amongst  those  supposed  to  be 
of  his  party — nay,  that  terror  did  its  work,  and  all  ideas  of 
treachery  which  might  have  been  before  encouraged  were  dis- 
missed. I,  too,  believed  this,  Agnes,  for  a  while ;  but  a  few 
brief  hours  were  sufficient  to  prove  the  utter  fallacy  of  the 
dream.  Some  secret  conspiracy  is,  I  am  convinced,  carrying 
on  within  these  very  walls.  I  know  and  feel  this,  and  yet  so 
cautious,  so  secret  are  their  movements,  whatever  they  may  be, 
that  I  cannot  guard  against  them.  There  are,  as  thou  know- 
est,  fewer  true  fighting  men  amongst  us  than  any  other  class, 
and  these  are  needed  to  man  the  walls  and  guard  against  the 
foe  without ;  they  may  not  be  spared  to  watch  as  spies  their 
comrades — nay,  I  dare  not  even  breathe  such  thoughts,  lest 
their  bold  hearts  should  faint  and  fail,  and  they  too  demand 
surrender  ere  evil  come  upon  us  from  within.  What  will  be 
that  evil  I  know  not,  and  therefore  cannot  guard  against  it.  I. 
dare  not  employ  these  men  upon  the  walls,  I  dare  not  bring 
them  out  against  the  foe,  for  so  bitterly  do  I  mistrust  them, 
I  should  fear  even  then  they  would  betray  us.  I  only  know 
that  evil  awaits  us,  and  therefore,  my  beloved,  I  do  beseech 
thee,  tarry  not  till  it  be  upon  us ;  depart  while  thy  path  is 
free." 

"  Yet  if  they  sought  safety  and  peace,  if  they  tire  of  this 
warfare,"  she  replied,  disregarding  his  last  words,  "  wherefore 
not  depart  to-day,  when  egress  was  permitted ;  bethink  thee, 
dearest  Nigel,  is  not  this  proof  thy  fears  are  ill  founded,  and 
that  no  further  ill  hangs  over  us  than  that  which  threatens 
from  without  ?" 


234  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

"  Alas  !  no,"  he  said,  "  it  but  confirais  my  suspicions  ;  I  ob- 
tained this  safe  conduct  expressly  to  nullify  or  confirm  them. 
Had  they  departed  as  I  wished,  all  would  have  been  well ; 
but  they  linger,  and  I  can  feel  their  plans  are  maturing,  and 
therefore  they  will  not  depart.  Oh,  Agnes,"  he  continued, 
bitterly,  "  my  very  soul  is  crushed  beneath  this  weight  of  un- 
expressed anxiety  and  care.  Had  I  but  to  contend  with*  our 
English  foe,  but  to  fight  a  good  and  honorable  fight,  to  strug- 
gle on,  conscious  that  to  the  last  gasp  the  brave  inmates  of  this 
fortress  would  follow  me,  and  Edward  would  find  naught  on 
which  to  wreak  his  vengeance  but  the  dead  bodies  of  his  foes, 
my  task  were  easy  as  'twere  glorious ;  but  to  be  conscious  of 
secret  brooding  evil  each  morn  that  rises,  each  night  that  falls, 
to  dread  what  yet  I  know  not,  to  see,  perchance,  my  brave 
fellows  whelmed,  chained,  through  a  base  treachery  impossible 
to  guard  against — oh !  Agnes,  'tis  this  I  fear." 

"  Yet  have  they  not  seemed  more  willing,  more  active  in 
their  assigned  tasks  since  the  execution  of  their  comrade," 
continued  Agnes,  with  all  a  woman's  gentle  artifice,  still  seek- 
ing to  impart  hope,  even  when  she  felt  that  none  remained ; 
"  may  it  not  be  that,  in  reality,  they  repent  them  of  former 
traitorous  designs,  and  remain  behind  to  aid  thee  to  the  last  ? 
Thou  sayest  that  palpable  proof  of  this  brooding  evil  thou 
canst  not  find,  then  do  not  heed  its  voice.  Let  no  fear  of  me, 
of  my  safety,  add  its  pang ;  mine  own  Nigel,  indeed  I  fear 
them  not." 

"  I  know  that  all  I  urge  will  naught  avail  with  thee,  be- 
loved," he  answered,  somewhat  less  agitated.  "  I  know  thy 
gentle  love  is  all  too  deep,  too  pure,  too  strong,  to  share  my 
fears  for  thee,  and  oh,  I  bless  thee,  bless  thee  for  the  sweet 
solace  of  that  faithful  love !  yet,  yet,  I  may  not  listen  to  thy 
wishes.  All  that  thou  sayest  is  but  confirmation  of  the  brood- 
ing evil ;  they  are  active,  willing,  but  to  hide  their  dark  designs. 
Yet  even  were  there  not  this  evil  to  dread,  no  dream  of  treach- 
ery, still,  still,  I  would  send  thee  hence,  sweet  one.  Famine 
and  blood,  and  chains,  and  death — oh,  no,  no !  thou  must  not 
stay  for  these." 

"  And  whither  wouldst  thou  send  me,  Nigel,  and  for  what  ?" 
she  asked,  still  calmly,  though  her  quivering  lip  denoted  that 
self-possession  was  fast  failing.  "  Why  ?" 

"  Whither  ?  to  safety,  freedom,  peace,  my  best  beloved  !"  he 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  235 

answered,  fervently ;  "  for  what  ?  that  happier,  brighter  days 
may  beam  for  thee,  that  thou  mayest  live  to  bless  and  be  a 
blessing ;  dearest,  best,  cling  not  to  a  withered  stem,  thou 
mayest  be  happy  yet." 

"  And  wilt  thou  join  me,  if  I  seek  this  home  of  safety,  Nigel  ?" 
she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  fixed  her  eyes  unflinchingly 
upon  his  face.  He  could  not  meet  that  glance,  a  cold  shudder 
passed  over  his  frame  ere  he  could  reply. 

"  Mine  own  Agnes,"  and  even  then  he  paused,  for  his  quiv- 
ering lip  could  not  give  utterance  to  his  thoughts,  and  a  minute 
rolled  in  that  deep  stillness,  and  still  those  anxious  eyes  moved 
not  from  his  face.  At  length  voice  returned,  and  it  was  sad 
yet  deeply  solemn,  "  Our  lives  rest  not  in  our  own  hands,"  he 
said ;  "  and  who  when  they  part  may  look  to  meet  again  ?  Be- 
loved, if  life  be  spared,  canst  doubt  that  I  will  join  thee  ?  yet, 
situated  as  I  am,  governor  of  a  castle  about  to  fall,  a  patriot, 
and  a  Bruce,  brother  to  the  noble  spirit  who  wears  our  coun- 
try's crown,  and  has  dared  to  fling  down  defiance  to  a  tyrant, 
Agnes,  mine  own  Agnes,  how  may  I  dream  of  life  ?  I  would 
send  thee  hence  ere  that  fatal  moment  come ;  I  would  spare 
thee  this  deep  woe.  I  would  bid  thee  live,  beloved,  live  till 
years  had  shed  sweet  peace  upon  thy  heart,  and  thou  wert 
happy  once  again." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause ;  the  features  of  Agnes  had 
become  convulsed  with  agony  as  Nigel  spoke,  and  her  hands 
had  closed  with  fearful  pressure  on  his  arm,  but  his  last  \vords, 
spoken  in  his  own  rich,  thrilling  voice,  called  back  the  stagnant 
blood. 

"  No,  no ;  I  will  not  leave  thee !"  she  sobbed  forth,  as  from 
the  sudden  failing  of  strength  in  every  limb  she  sunk  kneeling 
at  his  feet.  "  Nigel,  Nigel,  I  will  not  leave  thee  ;  in  life  or  in 
death  I  will  abide  by  thee.  Force  me  not  from  thee ;  seek  not 
to  tempt  me  by  the  tale  of  safety,  freedom,  peace ;  thou  know- 
est  not  the  depth,  the  might  of  woman's  love,  if  thou  thinkest 
things  like  these  can  weigh  aught  with  her,  even  if  chains  and 
death  stood  frowningly  beside.  I  will  not  leave  thee ;  whom 
have  I  beside  thee,  for  whom  else  wouldst  thou  call  on  me  to 
live  ?  Alone,  alone,  utterly  alone,  save  thee  !  Wilt  thou  bid 
me  hence,  and  leave  thee  to  meet  thy  fate  alone — thee,  to 
whom  my  mother  gave  me — thee,  without  whom  my  very  .life 
is  naught  ?  Nigel,  oh,  despise  me  not  for  these  wild  words, 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

unmaidenly  as  they  sound ;  oh,  let  me  speak  them,  or  my  heart 
will  break !" 

"Despise  thee  for  these  blessed  words!"  Nigel  answered, 
passionately,  as  he  raised  her  from  the  ground,  and  clasped  her 
to  his  heart.  "  Oh,  thou  knowest  not  the  bliss  they  give  ;  yet, 
yet  would  I  speak  of  parting,  implore  thee  still  to  leave  me, 
aye,  though  in  that  parting  my  very  heart-strings  snap.  Agnes, 
how  may  I  bear  to  see  thee  in  the  power  of  the  foe,  perchance 
insulted,  persecuted,  tortured  with  the  ribald  admiration  of  the 
rude  crowd,  and  feel  I  have  no  power  to  save  thee,  no  claim  to 
bind  thee  to  my  side.  What  are  the  mere  chains  of  love  in 
such  an  hour,  abiding  by  me,  as  thou  mightst,  till  our  last  hope 
is  over,  and  English  colors  wave  above  this  fortress — then, 
deai-est,  oh,  must  we  not,  shall  we  not  be  rudely  parted  ?" 

"  No,  no !  Who  shall  dare  to  part  us  ?"  she  said,  as  she 
clung  sobbing  to  his  breast.  "  Who  shall  dare  to  do  this  thing, 
and  say  I  may  not  tend  thee,  follow  thee,  even  until  death  ?" 

"  Who  ?  our  captors,  dearest.  Thinkest  thou  they  will  heed 
thy  tender  love,  thine  anguish  ?  will  they  have  hearts  for  aught 
save  for  thy  loveliness,  sweet  one  ?  Think,  think  of  terrors  like 
to  this,  and  oh,  still  wilt  thou  refuse  to  fly  ?" 

"  But  thy  sister,  the  Lady  Seaton,  Nigel,  doth  she  not  stay, 
doth  she  not  brave  these  perils  ?"  asked  Agnes,  shuddering  at 
her  lover's  words,  yet  clinging  to  him  still.  "  If  she  escapes 
such  evil,  why,  oh,  why  may  not  I  ?" 

"  She  is  Seaton's  wife,  sweet  one,  bound  to  him  by  the  voice 
of  heaven,  by  the  holiest  of  ties ;  the  noble  knights  who  head 
our  foes  will  protect  her  in  all  honorable  keeping  ;  but  for  thee, 
Agnes,  even  if  the  ills  I  dread  be  as  naught,  there  is  yet  one  I 
have  dared  not  name,  lest  it  should  pain  thee,  yet  one  that  is 
most  probable  as  'tis  most  fearful ;  thou  canst  not  hide  thy 
name,  and  as  a  daughter  of  Buchan,  oh,  will  they  not  give  thee 
to  a  father's  keeping  ?" 

"  The  murderer  of  my  brother — my  mother's  jailer !  Oh, 
Nigel,  Nigel,  to  look  on  him  were  more  than  death  !"  she 
wildly  exclaimed.  "  Yet,  yet  once  known  as  Agues  of  Buchan, 
this  will,  this  must  be ;  but  leave  thee  now,  leave  thee  to  a 
tyrant's  doom,  if  indeed,  indeed  thou  fallest  in  his  hands — leave 
thee,  when  faithful  love  and  woman's  tenderness  are  more  than 
ever  needed — leave  thee  for  a  fear  like  this,  no,  no,  I  will  not. 
Nigel,  I  will  rest  with  thee.  Speak  not,  answer  not ;  give  me 


THE   DATS   OF   BRUCE.  237 

one  short  moment,  and  then — oh,  all  the  ills  may  be  averted  by 
one  brief  word — and  I,  oh,  can  I  speak  it?"  She  paused  in 
fearful  agitation,  and  every  limb  shook  as  if  she  must  have 
fallen ;  *the  blood  rushed  up  to  cheek,  and  brow,  and  neck,  as, 
fixing  her  beautiful  eyes  on  Nigel's  face,  she  said,  in  a  low  yet 
thrilling  voice,  "  Let  the  voice  of  heaven  hallow  the  vows  we 
have  so  often  spoken,'  Nigel.  Give  me  a  right,  a  sacred  right 
to  bear  thy  name,  to  be  thine  own,  at  the  altar's  foot,  by  the 
holy  abbot's  blessing.  Let  us  pledge  our  troth,  and  then  let 
what  will  come,  no  man  can  part  us.  I  am  thine,  only  thine !" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  buried  her  face  in  his  bosom, 
and  Nigel  could  feel  her  heart  throb  as  if  'twould  burst  its 
bounds,  her  frame  quiver  as  if  the  torrent  of  blood,  checked 
and  stayed  to  give  strength  for  the  effort,  now  rushed  back 
with  such  overwhelming  force  through  its  varied  channels  as  to 
threaten  life  itself. 

"  Agnes,  my  own  noble,  self-devoted  love !  oh,  how  may  I 
answer  thee  ?"  he  cried,  tears  of  strong  emotion  coursing  down 
his  cheek — tears,  and  the  warrior  felt  no  shame.  "  How  have 
I  been  deserving  of  love  like  this — how  may  I  repay  it  ?  how 
bless  thee  for  such  words  ?  Mine  own,  mine  own !  this  would 
indeed  guard  thee  from  the  most  dreaded  ills ;  yet  how  may  I 
link  that  self-devoted  heart  to  one  whose  thread  of  life  is  well- 
nigh  spun  ?  how  may  I  make  thee  mine,  when  a  few  brief  weeks 
of  misery  and  horror  must  part  us,  and  on  earth,  forever  ?" 

"  No,  no ;  thou  knowest  not  all  a  wife  may  do,  my  Nigel," 
she  said,  as  she  raised  her  head  from  his  bosom,  and  faintly 
smiled,  though  her  frame  still  shook ;  "  how  she  may  plead 
even  with  a  tyrant,  and  find  mercy ;  or  if  this  fail,  how  she 
may  open  iron  gates  and  break  through  bonds,  till  freedom  may 
be  found.  Oh,  no,  we  shall  not  wed  to  part,  beloved ;  but  live 
and  yet  be  happy,  doubt  it  not ;  and  then,  oh,  then  forget  the 
words  that  joined  us,  made  us  one,  had  birth  from  other  lips 
than  thine; — thou  wilt  forget,  forgive  this,  Nigel?" 

"  Forget — forgive !  that  to  thy  pure,  unselfish  soul  I  owe  the 
bliss  which  e'en  at  this  hour  I  feel,"  he  answered,  passionately 
kissing  the  beautiful  brow  upturned  to  his  ;  "  forget  words  that 
have  proved — had  I  needed  proof — how  purely,  nobly,  faith- 
fully I  am  beloved ;  how  utterly,  how  wholly  thou  hast  for- 
gotten all  of  self  for  me !  No,  no !  were  thy  words  proved 
true,  might  I  indeed  live  blessed  with  thee  the  life  allotted  man, 


238  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

each  year,  each  month  I  would  recall  this  hour,  and  bless  thee 
for  its  love.  But  oh,  it  may  not  be  !"  and  his  voice  so  suddenly 
lost  its  impassioned  fervor,  that  the  breast  of  Agnes  filled  with 
new  alarm.  "  Dearest,  best !  thou  must  not  dream  of  life,  of 
happiness  with  me.  I  may  not  mock  thee  with  such  blessed, 
but,  alas  !  delusive  hopes ;  my  doom  hath  gone  forth,  revealed 
when  I  knew  it  not,  confirmed  by  that  visioned  seer  but  few 
short  weeks  ago.  Agnes,  my  noble  Agnes,  wherefore  shouldst 
thou  wed  with  death  ?  I  know  that  I  must  die  !" 

The  solemn  earnestness  of  his  words  chased  the  still  lingering 
glow  from  the  lips  and  cheek  of  the  maiden,  and  a  cold  shiver 
passed  through  her  frame,  but  still  she  clung  to  him,  and  said — 

"  It  matters  not ;  my  maiden  love,  my  maiden  troth  is  pledged 
to  thee — in  life  or  in  death  I  am  thine  alone.  I  will  not  leave 
thee,"  she  said,  firmly  and  calmly.  "  Nigel,  if  it  be  indeed  as 
thou  sayest,  that  affliction,  and — and  all  thou  hast  spoken,  must 
befall  thee,  the  more  need  is  there  for  the  sustaining  and  the 
soothing  comfort  of  a  woman's  love.  Fear  not  for  me,  weak 
as  I  may  have  seemed,  there  is  yet  a  spirit  in  me  worthy  of  thy 
love.  I  will  not  unman  thee  for  all  thou  mayest  encounter. 
No,  even  if  I  follow  thee  to — to  death,  it  shall  be  as  a  Bruce's 
wife.  Ask  not  how  I  will  contrive  to  abide  by  thee  undiscov- 
ered, when,  if  it  must  be,  the  foe  is  triumphant ;  it  will  take 
time,  and  we  have  none  to  lose.  Thou  hast  promised  to  forget 
all  I  have  urged,  all,  save  my  love  for  thee ;  then,  oh,  fear  me 
not,  doubt  me  not,  thine  Agnes  will  not  fail  thee !" 

Nigel  gazed  at  her  almost  with  surprise ;  she  was  no  longer 
the  gentle  timid  being  who  but  a  few  minutes  since  had  clung 
weeping  to  his  bosom  as  a  child.  She  was  indeed  very  pale, 
and  on  her  features  was  the  stillness  of  marble ;  but  she  stood 
erect  and  unfaltering  in  her  innocent  loveliness,  sustained  by 
that  mighty  spirit  which  dwelt  within.  An  emotion  of  deep 
reverence  took  possession  of  that  warrior  heart,  and  unable  to 
resist  the  impulse,  he  bent  his  knee  before  her. 

"  Then  let  it  be  so,"  he  said,  solemnly,  but  oh,  how  fervent- 
ly. "  I  will  not  torture  mine  own  heart  and  thine  by  conjuring 
thee  to  fly  ;  and  now,  here,  at  thy  feet,  Agnes,  noble,  generous 
being,  let  me  swear  solemnly,  sacredly  swear,  that  should  life 
be  preserved  to  me  longer  than  I  now  dream  of,  should  I  indeed 
be  spared  to  lavish  on  thee  all  a  husband's  love  and  care,  never, 
never  shalt  thou  have  cause  to  regret  this  day !  to  mourn  thy 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  239 

faithful  love  was  shown  as  it  hath  been — to  weep  the  hour  that, 
in  the  midst  of  danger,  and  darkness,  and  woe,  hath  joined  our 
earthly  fates,  and  made  us  one.  And  now,"  he  continued,  ris- 
ing and  folding  her  once  more  in  his  arms,  "  wilt  thou  meet  me 
at  the  altar  ere  the  truce  concludes  ?  'tis  but  a  brief  while,  a 
very  brief  while,  my  love ;  yet  if  it  can  be,  I  know  thou  will 
not  shrink." 

"  I  will  not,"  she  answered.  "  The  hour  thou  namest  I  will 
meet  thee.  Lady  Seaton,"  she  added,  slightly  faltering,  and 
the  vivid  blush  rose  to  her  temples,  "  I  would  see  her,  speak 
with  her  ;  yet — " 

"  She  shall  come  to  thee,  mine  own,  prepared  to  love  and 
hail  thee  sister,  as  she  hath  long  done.  She  will  not  blame 
thee,  dearest ;  she  loves,  hath  loved  too  faithfully  herself.  Fear 
not,  I  will  leave  naught  for  thee  to  tell  that  can  bid  that  cheek 
glow  as  it  doth  now.  She,  too,  will  bless  thee  for  thy  love." 

He  imprinted  a  fervent  kiss  on  her  cheek,  and  hastily  left  her. 
Agnes  remained  standing  as  he  had  left  her  for  several  min- 
utes, her  hands  tightly  clasped,  her  whole  soul  speaking  in  her 
beautiful  features,  and  then  she  sunk  on  her  knees  before  a 
rudely-carved  image  of  the  Virgin  and  child,  and  prayed  long 
and  fervently.  She  did  not  weep,  her  spirit  had  been  too  pain- 
fully excited  for  such  relief,  but  so  wrapt  was  she  in  devotion, 
she  knew  not  that  Lady  Seaton,  with  a  countenance  beaming 
in  admiration  and  love,  stood  beside  her,  till  she  spoke. 

"  Rouse  thee,  my  gentle  one,"  she  said,  tenderly,  as  she 
twined  her  arm  caressingly  around  her ;  "  I  may  not  let  thee 
linger  longer  even  here,  for  time  passes  only  too  quickly,  and 
I  shall  have  but  little  time  to  attire  my  beautiful  bride  for  the 
altar.  Nigel  hath  been  telling  such  a  tale  of  woman's  love,  that 
my  good  lord  hath  vowed,  despite  his  weakness  and  his  wounds, 
none  else  shall  lead  thee  to  the  altar,  and  give  thee  to  my  bro- 
ther, save  himself.  I  knew  that  not  even  Nigel's  influence 
would  bid  thee  leave  us,  dearest,"  she  continued,  as  Agnes  hid 
her  face  in  her  bosom,  "  but  I  dreamed  not  such  a  spirit  dwelt 
within  this  childlike  heart,  sweet  one ;  thy  lot  must  surely  be 
for  joy !" 


240  THE   DAYS    OF   BRUCE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IT  was  something  past  the  hour  of  nine,  when  Agnes,  lean- 
ing on  the  arm  of  Sir  Christopher  Seaton,  and  followed  by  Lady 
Seaton  and  two  young  girls,  their  attendants,  entered  the 
church,  and  walked,  with  an  unfaltering  step  and  firm  though 
modest  mien,  up  to  the  altar,  beside  which  Nigel  already  stood. 
She  was  robed  entirely  in  white,  without  the  smallest  orna- 
ment save  the  emerald  clasp  which  secured,  and  the  beautiful 
pearl  embroidery  which  adorned  her  girdle.  Her  mantle  was 
of  white  silk,  its  little  hood  thrown  back,  disclosing  a  rich  lining 
of  the  white  fox  fur.  Lady  Seaton  had  simply  arranged  her 
hair  in  its  own  beautiful  curls,  and  not  a  flower  or  gem  peeped 
through  them  ;  a  silver  bodkin  secured  the  veil,  which  was  just 
sufficiently  transparent  to  permit  her  betrothed  to  look  upon 
her  features,  and  feel  that,  pale  and  still  as  they  were,  they 
evinced  no  change  in  her  generous  purpose.  He,  too,  was 
pale,  for  he  felt  those  rites  yet  more  impressively  holy  than  he 
had  deemed  them,  even  when  his  dreams  had  pictured  them 
peculiarly  and  solemnly  holy ;  for  he  looked  not  to  a  continu- 
ance of  life  and  happiness,  he  felt  not  that  ceremony  set  its  seal 
upon  joy,  and  bound  it,  as  far  as  mortality  might  hope,  forever 
on  their  hearts.  He  was  conscious  only  of  the  deep  unuttera- 
ble fulness  of  that  gentle  being's  love,  of  the  bright,  beautiful 
lustre  with  which  it  shone  upon  his  path.  The  emotion  of  his 
young  and  ardent  breast  was  perhaps  almost  too  holy,  too  con- 
densed, to  be  termed  joy ;  but  it  was  one  so  powerful,  so 
blessed,  that  all  of  earth  and  earthly  care  was  lost  before  it. 
The  fears  and  doubts  which  he  had  so  lately  felt,  for  the  time 
completely  faded  from  his  memory.  That  there  were  foes 
without  and  yet  darker  foes  within  he  might  have  known  per- 
haps, but  at  that  moment  they  did  not  occupy  a  fleeting- 
thought.  He  had  changed  his  dress  for  one  of  richness  suited 
to  his  rank,  and  though  at  the  advice  of  his  friends  he  still  re- 
tained the  breastplate  and  some  other  parts  of  his  armor,  his 
doublet  of  azure  velvet,  cut  and  slashed  with  white  satin,  and 
his  long,  flowing  mantle  lined  with  sable,  and  so  richly  decora- 
ted with  silver  stars  that  its  color  could  scarcely  be  distin- 
guished, removed  all  appearance  of  a  martial  costume,  and  well 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  241 

became  the  graceful  figure  they  adorned ;  two  of  the  oldest 
knights  and  four  other  officers,  all  gayly  attired  as  the  hurry 
of  the  moment  would  permit,  had  at  his  own  request  attended 
him  to  the  altar. 

Much  surprise  this  sudden  intention  had  indeed  caused,  but 
it  was  an  excitement,  a  change  from  the  dull  routine  of  the 
siege,  and  consequently  welcomed  with  joy,  many  indeed  be- 
lieving Sir  Nigel  had  requested  the  truce  for  the  purpose.  Sir 
Christopher,  too,  though  pale  and  gaunt,  and  compelled  to  use 
the  support  of  a  cane  in  walking,  was  observed  to  look  upon 
his  youthful  charge  with  all  his  former  hilarity  of  mien, 
chastened  by  a  kindly  tenderness,  which  seemed  indeed  that  of 
the  father  whom  he  personated ;  and  Lady  Seaton  had  donned 
a  richer  garb  than  was  her  wont,  and  stood  encouragingly  be- 
side the  bride.  About  twenty  men-at-arms,  their  armor  and 
weapons  hastily  burnished,  that  no  unseemly  soil  should  mar  the 
peaceful  nature  of  the  ceremony  by  recalling  thoughts  of  war, 
were  ranged  on  either  side.  The  church  was  lighted,  dimly  in 
the  nave  and  aisles,  but  softly  and  somewhat  with  a  holy  ra- 
diance where  the  youthful  couple  knelt,  from  the  large  waxen 
tapers  burning  in  their  silver  stands  upon  the  altar. 

The  Abbot  of  Scone  was  at  his  post,  attended  by  the  domes- 
tic chaplain  of  Kildrummie  ;  there  was  a  strange  mixture  of 
admiration  and  anxiety  on  the  old  man's  face,  but  Agnes  saw 
it  not ;  she  saw  nothing  save  him  at  whose  side  she  knelt. 

Nigel,  even  in  the  agitation  of  mind  in  which  he  had  quitted 
Agnes — an  agitation  scarcely  conquered  in  hastily  informing  his 
sister  and  her  husband  of  all  that  had  passed  between  them, 
and  imploring  their  countenance  and  aid — yet  made  it  his  first 
care  strictly  to  make  the  round  of  the  walls,  to  notice  all  that 
might  be  passing  within  the  courts,  and  see  that  the  men-at- 
arms  were  at  their  posts.  In  consequence  of  the  truce,  for  the 
conclusion  of  which  it  still  wanted  some  little  time,  there  were 
fewer  men  on  the  walls  than  usual,  their  commanders  having 
desired  them  to  take  advantage  of  this  brief  cessation  of  hos- 
tilities and  seek  refreshment  and  rest.  A  trumpet  was  to  sound 
at  the  hour  of  ten,  half  an  hour  before  the  truce  concluded,  to 
summon  them  again  to  their  posts.  The  men  most  acute  in 
penetration,  most  firm  and  steady  in  purpose,  Nigel  selected  as 
sentries  along  the  walls  ;  the  post  of  each  being  one  of  the 
round  towers  we  have  mentioned,  the  remaining  spaces  were 

21 


242  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

consequently  clear.  Night  had  already  fallen,  and  anxiously 
observing'  the  movements  on  the  walls ;  endeavoring  to  dis- 
cover whether  the  various  little  groups  of  men  and  women  in 
the  ballium  meant  any  thing  more  than  usual,  Sir  Nigel  did  not 
notice  various  piles  or  stacks  of  straw  and  wood  which  were 
raised  against  the  wall  in  many  parts  where  the  shadows  lay 
darkest,  and  some  also  against  the  other  granaries  which  were 
contained  in  low,  wooden  buildings  projecting  from  the  wall. 
Neither  he  nor  his  friends,  nor  even  the  men-at-arms,  noticed 
them,  or  if  they  did,  imagined  them  in  the  darkness  to  be  but 
the  stones  and  other  weights  generally  collected  there,  and  used 
to  supply  the  engines  on  the  walls. 

With  the  exception  of  the  sentries  and  the  men  employed  by 
Nigel,  all  the  garrison  had  assembled  in  the  hall  of  the  keep 
for  their  evening  meal,  the  recollection  of  whose  frugality  they 
determined  to  banish  by  the  jest  and  song  ;  there  were  in  con- 
sequence none  about  the  courts,  and  therefore  that  dark  forms 
were  continually  hovering  about  beneath  the  deep  shadows  of 
the  walls,  increasing  the  size  of  the  stacks,  remained  wholly 
undiscovered. 

Agnes  had  entered  the  church  by  a  covered  passage,  which 
united  the  keep  to  its  inner  wall,  and  thence  by  a  gallery 
through  the  wall  itself,  dimly  lighted  by  loopholes,  to  the  edi- 
fice, whose  southern  side  was  formed  by  this  same  wall.  It 
was  therefore,  though  in  reality  situated  within  the  ballium  or 
outer  court,  nearer  by  many  hundred  yards  to  the  dwelling  of 
the  baron  than  to  the  castle  walls,  its  granaries,  towers,  etc. 
This  outward  ballium  indeed  was  a  very  large  space,  giving  the 
appearance  of  a  closely-built  village  or  town,  from  the  number 
of  low  wooden  and  thatched  -roofed  dwellings,  which  on  either 
side  of  the  large  open  space  before  the  great  gate  were  congre- 
gated together.  This  account  may,  we  fear  at  such  a  moment, 
seem  somewhat  out  of  place,  but  events  in  the  sequel  compel 
us  to  be  thus  particular.  A  space  about  half  a  mile  square 
surrounded  the  church,  and  this  position,  when  visited  by  Sir 
Nigel  at  nine  o'clock,  was  quiet  and  deserted ;  indeed  there 
was  very  much  less  confusion  and  other  evidences  of  disquiet 
within  the  dwellings  than  was  now  usual,  and  this  circumstance 
perhaps  heightened  the  calm  which,  as  we  have  said,  had  set- 
tled on  Sir  Nigel's  mind. 

There  was  silence  within  that  little  sacred  edifice,  the  silence 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  243 

of  emotion ;  for  not  one  could  gaze  upon  that  young  fair  girl, 
could  think  of  that  devoted  spirit,  which  at  such  a  time  pre- 
ferred to  unite  her  fate  with  a  beloved  one  than  seek  safety  and 
freedom  in  flight,  without  being  conscious  of  a  strange  swelling 
of  the  heart  and  unwonted  moisture  in  the  eye ;  and  there  was 
that  in  the  expression  of  the  beautiful  features  of  Nigel  Bruce 
none  could  remark  unmoved.  He  was  so  young,  so  gifted, 
so  strangely  uniting  the  gift  of  the  sage,  the  poet,  with  the 
glorious  achievements  of  the  most  perfect  knight,  that  he  had 
bound  himself  alike  to  every  heart,  however  varied  their  dispo- 
sitions, however  opposite  their  tastes ;  and  there  was  not  one, 
from  the  holy  Abbot  of  Scone  to  the  lowest  and  rudest  of  the 
men-at-arms,  who  would  not  willingly,  aye,  joyfully  have  laid 
down  life  for  his,  have  gladly  accepted  chains  to  give  him 
freedom. 

The  deep,  sonorous  voice  of  the  abbot  audibly  faltered  as 
he  commenced  the  sacred  service,  and  looked  on  the  fair  beings 
kneeling,  in  the  beauty  and  freshness  of  their  youth,  before  him. 
Accustomed,  however,  to  control  every  human  emotion,  he 
speedily  recovered  himself,  and  uninterruptedly  the  ceremony 
continued.  Modestly,  yet  with  a  voice  that  never  faltered, 
Agnes  made  the  required  responses ;  and  so  deep  was  the  still- 
ness that  reigned  around  not  a  word  was  lost,  but,  sweetly  and 
clearly  as  a  silver  clarion,  it  sunk  on  every  ear  and  thrilled  to 
every  heart ;  to  his  who  knelt  beside  her,  as  if  each  tone  re- 
vealed yet  more  the  devoted  love  which  led  her  there.  To- 
wards the  conclusion  of  the  service,  and  just  as  every  one 
within  the  church  knelt  in  general  prayer,  a  faint,  yet  suffo- 
cating odor,  borne  on  what  appeared  a  light  mist,  was  distin- 
guished, and  occasioned  some  slight  surprise ;  by  the  group 
around  the  altar,  however,  it  was  unnoticed ;  and  the  men-at- 
arms,  on  looking  towards  the  narrow  windows  and  perceiving 
nothing  but  the  intense  darkness  of  the  night,  hushed  the  rising 
exclamation,  and  continued  in  devotion.  Two  of  the  knights,  too, 
were  observed  to  glance  somewhat  uneasily  around,  still  nothing 
was  perceivable  but  the  light  wreaths  of  vapor  penetrating 
through  the  northern  aisle,  and  dissolving  ere  long  the  arches  of 
the  roof.  Almost  unconsciously  they  listened,  and  became  aware 
of  some  sounds  in  the  distance,  but  so  faint  and  indefinable  as 
to  permit  them  to  rest  in  the  belief  that  it  must  be  the  men-at- 
arms  hurrying  from  the  keep  to  the  walls,  although  they  were 


244  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

certain  the  trumpet  had  not  yet  sounded.  Determined  not  to 
heed  such  vague  sounds,  they  looked  again  to  the  altar.  The 
abbot  had  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  either  low -bent  head,  and 
was  emphatically  pronouncing  his  blessing  on  their  vows,  call- 
ing on  heaven  in  its  mercy  to  bless  and  keep  them,  and  spare 
them  to  each  other  for  a  long  and  happy  life ;  or  if  it  must  be 
that  a  union  commenced  in  danger  should  end  in  sorrow,  to 
keep  them  still,  and  fit  them  for  a  union  in  eternity.  His 
words  were  few  but  earnest,  and  for  the  first  time  the  lip  of 
Agnes  was  observed  to  quiver — they  were  ONE.  Agnes  was 
clasped  to  the  heart  of  her  husband  ;  she  heard  him  call  her  his 
own — his  wife — that  man  should  never  part  them  more.  The 
voice  of  congratulation  woke  around  her,  but  ere  either  could 
gaze  around  to  look  their  thanks,  or  clasp  the  eagerly  proffered 
hand,  a  cry  of  alarm,  of  horror,  ran  though  the  building.  A 
red,  lurid  light,  impossible  to  be  mistaken,  illumined  every  win- 
dow, as  from  a  fearful  conflagration  without ;  darkness  had  fled 
before  it.  On  all  sides  it  was  light — light  the  most  horrible,  the 
most  awful,  though  perchance  the  most  fascinating  the  eye  can 
behold  ;  fearful  shouts  and  cries,  and  the  rush  of  many  feet, 
mingled  with  the  now  easily  distinguished  roar  of  the  devour- 
ing element,  burst  confusedly  on  the  ear.  A  minute  sufficed 
to  fling  open  the  door  of  the  church  for  knights  and  men-at- 
arms  to  rush  forth  in  one  indiscriminate  mass.  Sir  Christo- 
pher would  have  followed  them,  utterly  regardless  of  his  ina- 
bility, had  not  his  wife  clung  to  him  imploringly,  and  effectually 
restrained  him.  The  abbot,  grasping  the  silver  crosier  by  his 
side,  with  a  swift,  yet  still  majestic  stride,  made  his  way  through 
the  church,  and  vanished  by  the  widely  opened  door.  Agnes 
and  Sir  Nigel  stood  comparatively  alone  ;  not  a  cry,  not  a  word 
passed  her  lips  ;  every  feature  was  wrapped  in  one  absorbing 
look  upon  her  husband.  He  had  clasped  his  hands  convul- 
sively together,  his  brow  was  knit,  his  lip  compressed,  his  eye 
fixed  and  rigid,  though  it  gazed  on  vacancy. 

"  It  hath  fallen,  it  hath  fallen  !"  he  muttered.  "  Fool,  fool 
that  I  was  never  to  dream  of  this !  Friends,  followers,  all  I 
hold  most  dear,  swallowed  up  in  this  fell  swoop !  God  of 
mercy,  how  may  it  be  born  !  And  thou,  thou,"  he  added,  in  in- 
creased agony,  roused  from  that  stupor  by  the  wild  shouts  of 
"  Sir  Nigel,  Sir  Nigel !  where  is  he  ?  why  does  he  tany  in  such 
an  hour?"  that  rung  shrilly  on  the  air.  "  Agnes,  mine  own, 


THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE.  245 

it  is  not  too  late  even  now  to  fly.  Ha !  son  of  Derrnid,  in 
good  time  thou  art  here;  save  her,  in  mercy  save  her! 
I  know  not  when,  or  how,  or  where  we  may  meet  again ;  I 
may  not  tarry  here."  He  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  imprinted 
an  impassioned  kiss  on  her  now  death-like  cheek,  placed  her  at 
once  in  the  arms  of  the  seer  (who,  robed  as  a  minstrel,  had  stood 
concealed  behind  a  projecting  pillar  during  the  ceremony,  and 
now  approached),  and  darted  wildly  from  the  church.  What  a 
scene  met  his  gaze  !  All  the  buildings  within  the  ballium, 
with  the  sole  exception  of  the  church,  were  in  one  vivid  blaze 
of  fire  ;  the  old  dry  wood  and  thatch  of  which  they  were  com- 
posed, kindling  with  a  mere  spark.  The  wind  blew  the  flames 
in  the  direction  of  the  principal  wall,  which  was  already  ignited 
from  the  heaps  of  combustibles  that  had  been  raised  within  for 
the  purpose ;  although  it  was  likely  that,  from  its  extreme 
thickness  and  strength,  the  fire  had  there  done  but  partial  evil, 
had  not  the  conflagration  within  the  court  spread  faster  and 
nearer  every  moment,  and  from  the  blazing  rafters  and  large 
masses  of  thatch  caught  by  the  wind  and  hurled  on  the  veiy 
wall,  done  greater  and  more  irreparable  mischief  than  the  com- 
bustibles themselves.  Up,  up,  seeming  to  the  very  heavens,  the 
lurid  flames  ascended,  blazing  and  roaring,  and  lighting  the 
whole  scene  as  with  the  glare  of  day.  Fantastic  wreaths  of  red 
fire  danced  in  the  air  against  the  pitchy  blackness  of  the  heav- 
ens, rising  and  falling  in  such  graceful,  yet  terrible  shapes,  that 
the  very  eye  felt  riveted  in  admiration,  while  the  heart  quailed 
with  horror.  Backwards  and  forwards  gleamed  fhe  forms  of 
men  in  the  dusky  glare  ;  and  oaths  and  cries,  and  the  clang  of 
swords,  and  the  shrieks  of  women,  terrified  by  the  destruction 
they  had  not  a  little  assisted  to  ignite — the  sudden  rush  of 
horses  bursting  from  their  stables,  and  flying  here  and  there, 
scared  by  the  unusual  sight  and  horrid  sounds — the  hissing 
streams  of  water  which,  thrown  from  huge  buckets  on  the 
flames,  seemed  but  to  excite  them  to  greater  fury  instead  of 
lessening  their  devouring  way — the  crackling  of  straw  and 
wood,  as  of  the  roar  of  a  hundred  furnaces — these  were  the  varied 
sounds  and  sights  that  burst  upon  the  eye  and  ear  of  Nigel, 
as,  richly  attired  as  he  was,  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  his 
fair  hair  thrown  back  from  his  uncovered  brow  and  head,  he 
stood  in  the  very  centre  of  the  scene.  One  glance  sufficed  to 
perceive  that  the  rage  of  the  men-at-arms  was  turned  on  their 


246  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

treacherous  countrymen ;  that  the  work  of  war  raged  even 
then — the  swords  of  Scotsmen  were  raised  against  each  other. 
Even  women  fell  in  that  fierce  slaughter,  for  the  demon  of  re- 
venge was  at  work,  and  sought  but  blood.  In  vain  the  holy 
abbot,  heedless  that  one  sudden  gust  and  his  flowing  garments 
must  inevitably  catch  fire,  uplifted  his  crosier,  and  called  on 
them  to  forbear.  In  vain  the  officers  rushed  amidst  the  infuri- 
ated men,  bidding  them  keep  their  weapons  and  their  lives  for 
the  foe,  who  in  such  a  moment  would  assuredly  be  upon  them  ; 
in  vain  they  commanded,  exhorted,  implored ;  but  on  a  sudden, 
the  voice  of  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  was  heard  above  the  tumult,  loud, 
stern,  commanding.  His  form  was  seen  hurrying  from  group 
to  group,  turning  back  with  his  own  sword  the  weapons  of  his 
men,  giving  life  even  to  those  who  had  wrought  this  woe ;  and 
there  was  a  sudden  hush,  a  sudden  pause. 

"  Peace,  peace  !"  he  cried.  "  Would  ye  all  share  the  mad- 
ness of  these  men  ?  They  have  hurled  down  destruction,  let 
them  reap  it ;  let  them  live  to  thrive  and  fatten  in  their  chains  ; 
let  them  feel  the  yoke  they  pine  for.  For  us,  my  friends  and 
fellow-soldiers,  let  us  not  meet  our  glorious  fate  with  the  blood 
of  Scotsmen  on  our  swords.  We  have  striven  for  our  country ; 
we  have  striven  gloriously,  faithfully,  and  now  we  have  but  to 
die  for  her.  Ha  !  do  I  speak  in  vain  ?  Again — back,  coward  ! 
wouldst  thou  slay  a  woman  ?"  and,  with  a  sudden  bound,  he 
stood  beside  one  of  the  soldiers,  who  was  in  the  act  of  plunging 
his  dagger  in  the  breast  of  a  kneeling  and  struggling  female. 
One  moment  sufficed  to  wrench  the  dagger  from  his  grasp,  and 
release  the  woman  from  his  hold. 

"  It  is  ill  done,  your  lordship ;  it  is  the  fiend,  the  arch-fiend 
that  has  planned  it  all,"  loudly  exclaimed  the  man.  "  She  has 
been  heard  to  mutter  threats  of  vengeance,  and  blood  and  fire 
against  thee,  and  all  belonging  to  thee.  Let  her  not  go  free, 
my  lord  ?•  thou  mayest  repent  it  still." 

"Repent  giving  a  woman  life? — bah!  Thou  art  a  fool, 
though  a  faithful  one,"  answered  Sir  Nigel;  but  even  he 
started  as  he  recognized  the  features  of  Jean  Roy.  She  gave 
him  no  time  to  restrain  her,  however ;  for,  sliding  from  his 
hold,  she  bounded  several  paces  from  him,  singing,  as  she  did 
so,  "  Repent,  ye  shall  repent !  Where  is  thy  buxom  bride  ? 
Jean  Roy  will  see  to  her  safety.  A  bonny  courtship  ye  shall 
have!"  Tossing  up  her  arms  wildly,  she  vanished  as  she 


THE   DAYS    OF   BRUCE.  247 

spoke ;  seeming  in  that  light  in  very  truth  more  like  a  fiend 
than  woman.  A  chill  sunk  on  the  heart  of  Nigel,  but,  "  No, 
no,"  he  said,  internally,  as  again  he  sought  the  spot  where 
confusion  and  horror  waxed  thickest ;  "  Dermid  will  care  for 
Agnes,  and  guard  her.  I  will  not  think  of  that  mad  woman's 
words."  Yet  even  as  he  rushed  onwards,  giving  directions, 
commands,  lending  his  aid  to  every  effort  made  for  extinguish- 
ing the  fire,  a  prayer  for  his  wife  was  uttered  in  his  heart. 

The  fire  continued  its  rapid  progress,  buttress  after  buttress, 
tower  after  tower  caught  on  the  walls,  causing  the  conflagra- 
tion to  continue,  even  when,  by  the  most  strenuous  efforts,  it 
had  been  partially  extinguished  amongst  the  dwellings  of  the 
court.  The  wind  blowing  from  the  north  fortunately  preserved 
the  keep,  inner  wall,  and  even  the  church,  uninjured,  save 
that  the  scorched  and  blackened  sides  of  the  latter  gave  evi- 
dence of  the  close  vicinity  of  the  flames,  and  how  narrowly  it 
had  escaped.  With  saddened  hearts,  the  noble  defenders  of 
Scotland's  last  remaining  bulwark,  beheld  their  impregnable 
wall,  the  scene  of  such  dauntless  valor,  such  unconquered  strug- 
gles, against  which  the  whole  force  of  their  mighty  foes  had 
been  of  no  avail — that  wall  crumbling  into  dust  and  ashes  in 
their  very  sight,  opening  a  broad  passage  to  the  English  foe. 
Yet  still  there  was  no  evidence  that  to  yield  were  preferable 
than  to  die ;  still,  though  well-nigh  exhausted  with  their  her- 
culean efforts  to  quench  the  flames,  there  was  no  cessation, 
no  pause,  although  the  very  height  of  the  wall  prevented  suc- 
cess, for  they  had  not  the  facilities  afforded  by  the  engines  of 
the  present  day.  Sir  Nigel,  his  knights,  nay,  the  venerable 
abbot  himself,  seconded  every  effort  of  the  men.  It  seemed  as 
if  little  more  could  add  to  the  horror  of  the  scene,  and  yet  the 
shouts  of  "  The  granaries,  the  granaries — merciful  heaven,  all  is 
consumed !"  came  with  such  appalling  consciousness  on  every 
ear,  that  for  a  brief  while,  the  stoutest  arm  hung  powerless,  the 
firmest  spirit  quailed.  Famine  stood  suddenly  before  them  as 
a  gaunt,  terrific  spectre,  whose  cold  hand  it  seemed  had  grasped 
their  very  hearts.  Nobles  and  men,  knights  and  soldiers,  alike 
stood  paralyzed,  gazing  at  each  other  with  a  blank,  dim,  unuttera- 
ble despair.  The  shrill  blast  of  many  trumpets,  the  roll  of 
heavy  drums,  broke  that  deep  stillness.  "  The  foe  !  the  foe !" 
was  echoed  round,  fiercely,  yet  rejoicingly.  "  They  are  upon 
us — they  brave  the  flames — well  done  !  Now  firm  and  steady ; 


248  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

to  your  arms — stand  close.  Sound  trumpets — the  defiance,  the 
Bruce  and  Scotland  !"  and  sharply  and  clearly,  as  if  but  just 
arrayed  for  battle,  as  if  naught  had  chanced  to  bend  those  gal- 
lant spirits  to  the  earth,  the  Scottish  clarions  sent  back  their  an- 
swering blast,  and  the  men  gathered  in  compact  array  around 
their  gallant  leader. 

"  My  horse — my  horse  !"  shouted  Nigel  Bruce,  as  he  sprung 
from  rank  to  rank  of  the  little  phalanx,  urging,  commanding, 
entreating  them  to  make  one  last  stand,  and  fall  as  befitted 
Scottish  patriots.  The  keep  and  inner  ballium  was  still  their 
own  as  a  place  of  retreat,  however  short  a  period  it  might  re- 
main so.  A  brave  defence,  a  glorious  death  would  still  do 
much  for  Scotland. 

Shouts,  cheers,  blessings  on  his  name  awoke  in  answer,  as  un- 
falteringly, as  bravely  as  those  of  the  advancing  foes.  Prancing, 
neighing,  rearing,  the  superb  charger  was  at  length  brought 
to  the  dauntless  leader. 

"  Not  thus,  my  lord  ;  in  heaven's  name,  do  not  mount  thus, 
unarmed,  bareheaded  as  thou  art !"  exclaimed  several  voices, 
and  two  or  three  of  his  esquires  crowded  round  him.  "  Retire 
but  for  a  brief  space  within  the  church." 

"  And  turn  my  back  upon  my  foes,  Hubert ;  not  for  worlds  ! 
No,  no ;  bring  me  the  greaves,  gauntlets,  and  helmet  here,  if 
thou  wilt,  and  an  they  give  me  time,  I  will  arm  me  in  their 
very  teeth.  Haste  ye,  my  friends,  if  ye  will  have  it  so;  for 
myself  these  garments  would  serve  me  well  enough  ;"  but  ere  he 
ceased  to  speak  they  had  flown  to  obey,  and  returned  ere/oi 
dozen  more  of  the  English  had  made  their  way  across  the  crum- 
bling wall.  Coolly,  composedly,  Nigel  threw  aside  his  mantle 
and  doublet,  and  permitted  his  esquires  to  assist  in  arming  him, 
speaking  at  the  same  time  in  a  tone  so  utterly  unconcerned, 
that  ere  their  task  was  finished,  his  coolness  had  extended  unto 
them.  He  had  allowed  some  few  of  the  English  to  make  an 
unmolested  way ;  his  own  men  were  drawn  up  in  close  lines 
against  the  inner  wall,  so  deep  in  shadow  that  they  were  at  first 
unobserved  by  the  English.  He  could  perceive  by  the  still, 
clear  light  of  the  flames,  troop  after  troop  of  the  besiegers 
were  marching  forward  in  the  direction  both  of  the  causeway 
and  the  river ;  several  were  plunging  in  the  moat,  sword  in 
hand,  and  attack  threatened  on  every  side.  He  waited  no  lon- 
ger ;  springing  on  his  charger,  with  a  movement  so  sudden  and 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

unexpected,  the  helmet  fell  from  his  esquire's  hand,  and  wav- 
ing his  sword  above  his  undefended  head,  he  shouted  aloud  his 
war-cry,  and  dashed  on,  followed  by  his  men,  to  the  spot  where 
a  large  body  of  his  foes  already  stood. 

Desperately  they  struggled,  most  gallantly  they  fought ;  man 
after  man  of  the  English  fell  before  them.  On,  on  they  strug- 
gled ;  a  path  seemed  cleared  before  them ;  the  English  were 
bearing  back,  despite  their  continued  reinforcements  from  the 
troops,  that  so  thronged  the  causeway  it  appeared  but  one  mass 
of  men.  But  other  shouts  rent  the  air.  The  besiegers  now 
poured  in  on  every  side ;  wherever  that  gallant  body  turned 
they  were  met  by  English.  On,  on  they  came,  fresh  from 
some  hours  of  repose,  buoyed  up  by  the  certainty  of  conquest ; 
unnumbered  swords  and  spears,  and  coats  of  mail,  gleaming  in 
that  lurid  light ;  on  came  the  fiery  steeds,  urged  by  the  spur 
and  rein,  till  through  the  very  flames  they  bore  their  masters  ; 
on  through  the  waters  of  the  moat,  up  the  scorching  ruins,  and 
with  a  sound  as  of  thunder,  clearing  with  a  single  bound  all 
obstacles  into  the  very  court.  It  was  a  fearful  sight ;  that  little 
patriot  band,  hemmed  in  on  every  side,  yet  struggling  to  the 
last,  clearing  a  free  passage  through  men  and  horse,  and  glan- 
cing swords  and  closing  multitudes,  nearing  the  church,  slowly, 
yet  surely,  forming  in  yet  closer  order  as  they  advanced  ;  there, 
there  they  stood,  as  a  single  bark  amid  the  troubled  waves, 
cleaving  them  asunder,  but  to  close  again  in  fatal  fury  on  her 
track. 

In  vain,  amid  that  furious  strife,  did  the  Earl  of  Lancaster 
seek  out  the  azure  plume  and  goklen  helmet  that  marked  the 
foe  he  still  desired  to  meet ;  there  was  indeed  a  face,  beautiful 
and  glorious  even  in  that  moment,  ever  in  the  very  thickest  of 
the  fight,  alike  the  front,  the  centre,  the  rear-guard  of  his  men ; 
there  was  indeed  that  stately  form,  sitting  his  noble  charger  as 
if  horse  and  man  were  one ;  and  that  unhelmed  brow,  that 
beautifully  formed  head,  with  its  long  curls  streaming  in  the 
night  wind,  which  towered  unharmed,  unbent,  above  his  foes ; 
and  where  that  was,  the  last  hope  of  his  country  had  gathered. 
The  open  door  of  the  church  was  gained,  and  there  the  Scot- 
tish patriots  made  a  stand,  defended  in  their  rear  by  the  build- 
ing. A  brief  and  desperate  struggle  partially  cleared  their 
foes,  and  ere  those  in  the  rear  could  press  forward,  the  be- 
sieged had  disappeared,  and  the  heavy  doors  were  closed.  The 

11* 


250  THE    DAYS    OF   BRUCE. 

sudden  pause  of  astonishment  amidst  the  assailants  was  speedily 
dispelled  by  the  heavy  blows  of  axes  and  hatchets,  the  sudden 
shout  "  To  the  wall !  to  the  wall  !"  while  several  ran  to  plant 
scaling-ladders  and  mount  the  inner  barrier,  left  unhappily  un- 
guarded from  the  diminished  numbers  of  the  Scotch ;  there, 
however,  their  progress  was  impeded,  for  the  space  which  that 
wall  inclosed  being  scarce  half  the  size  of  the  ballium,  and  the 
barrier  itself  uninjured,  they  were  repulsed  with  loss  from 
within.  The  church -doors  meanwhile  had  given  way,  and  per- 
mitted ingress  to  the  assailants,  but  the  door  leading  to  the 
passage  through  the  inner  wall,  and  by  which  in  reality  the 
Scotch  had  effected  their  retreat,  was  carefully  closed  and 
barred  within,  and  had  so  completely  the  same  appearance  as 
the  wall  of  the  church  in  which  it  stood,  that  the  English  gazed 
round  them  fairly  puzzled  and  amazed. 

This  movement,  however,  on  the  part  of  the  besieged  occa- 
sioned a  Jbrief  cessation  of  hostilities  on  both  sides.  The  flames 
had  subsided,  except  here  and  there,  where  the  passing  wind 
fanned  the  red-hot  embers  anew  into  lire,  and  caused  a  flicker- 
ing radiance  to  pass  athwart  the  pitchy  darkness  of  the  night, 
and  over  the  bustling  scene  on  either  side  the  ruins. 

There  was  no  moon,  and  Hereford  imagined  the  hours  of 
darkness  might  be  better  employed  in  active  measures  for  re- 
suming the  attack  by  dawn  than  continuing  it  then.  Much, 
very  much  had  been  gained  :  a  very  brief  struggle  more  he 
knew  must  now  decide  it,  and  he  hoped,  though  against  his 
better  judgment,  that  the  garrison  would  surrender  without 
further  loss  of  blood.  Terms  he  could  not  propose,  none  at 
least  that  could  prevail  on  the  brave  commanders  to  give  up 
with  life,  and  so  great  was  the  admiration  Nigel's  conduct  had 
occasioned,  that  this  true  son  of  chivalry  ardently  wished  he 
would  eventually  fall  in  combat  rather  than  be  consigned  to 
the  fearful  fate  which  he  knew  would  be  inflicted  on  him  by 
the  commands  of  Edward.  Commands  to  the  troops  without 
were  forwarded  by  trusty  esquires  ;  the  wounded  conveyed  to 
the  camp,  and  their  places  supplied  by  fresh  forces,  who,  with 
the  joyous  sound  of  trumpet  and  drum,  marched  over  by 
torchlight  into  the  ballium,  so  long  the  coveted  object  of  their 
attack. 

Sir  Nigel  meanwhile  had  desired  his  exhausted  men  to  lie 
down  in  their  arms,  ready  to  start  up  at  the  faintest  appearance 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  251 

of  renewed  hostility,  and  utterly  worn  out,  they  most  willingly 
obeyed.  But  the  young  knight  himself  neither  shared  nor 
sought  for  that  repose  ;  he  stood  against  a  buttress  on  the 
walls,  leaning  on  a  tall  spear,  and  gazing  at  once  upon  his 
wearied  followers,  and  keeping  a  strict  watch  on  the  movements 
of  his  foes.  A  tall  form,  clothed  in  complete  armor,  suddenly 
stood  beside  him  ;  he  started. 

"  Seaton !"  he  said  ;  "  thou  here,  and  in  armor  ?" 

"Aye,"  answered  the  knight,  his  voice  from  very  weakness 
sounding  hollow  in  his  helmet.  "  Aye,  to  make  one  last  stand, 
and,  if  it  may  be,  die  as  I  have  lived  for  Scotland.  I  have 
strength  to  strike  one  last  blow,  for  last  it  will  be — all  is  lost !" 

A  low  groan  broke  from  Nigel's  lips,  but  he  made  no  further 
answer  than  the  utterance  of  one  word — "  Agnes  !" 

"  Is  safe,  I  trust,"  rejoined  the  knight.  "  The  son  of  Der- 
mid,  in  whose  arms  I  last  saw  her,  knoweth  many  a  secret 
path  and  hidden  passage,  and  can  make  his  way  wherever  his 
will  may  lead." 

"  How !  thinkest  thou  he  will  preserve  her,  save  her  even 
now  from  the  foe  ?" 

"Aye,  perchance  conceal  her  till  the  castle  be  dismantled. 
But  what  do  they  now  ?  See,  a  herald  and  white  flag,"  he 
added,  abruptly,  as  by  the  light  of  several  torches  a  trumpeter, 
banner-bearer,  herald,  and  five  men-at-arms  were  discerned  ap- 
proaching the  walls. 

"  What  would  ye  ?  Halt,  and  answer,"  demanded  Sir  Nigel, 
recalled  on  the  instant  to  his  sterner  duties,  and  advancing, 
spear  in  hand,  to  the  utmost  verge  of  the  wall. 

"  We  demand  speech  of  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  and  Sir  Christopher 
Seaton,  governors  of  this  castle,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  Speak  on,  then,  we  are  before  ye,  ready  to  list  your  say. 
What  would  your  lords  ?" 

"  Give  ye  not  admittance  within  the  wall  ?"  inquired  the 
herald  ;  "  'tis  somewhat  strange  parleying  without." 

"  No !"  answered  Nigel,  briefly  and  sternly ;  "speak  on,  and 
quickly.  We  doubt  not  the  honor  of  the  noble  Earl  of  Here- 
ford— it  hath  been  too  gloriously  proved ;  but  we  are  here  to 
list  your  mission.  What  would  ye  ?" 

"  That  ye  surrender  this  fortress  by  to-morrow's  dawn,  and 
strive  no  longer  with  the  destiny  against  you.  Ye  have  neither 
men  nor  stores,  and  in  all  good  and  chivalric  feeling,  the  noble 


252  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

Earls  of  Hereford  and  Lancaster  call  on  ye  to  surrender  with- 
out further  loss  of  blood." 

"  And  if  we  do  this  ?"  demanded  Nigel. 

"  They  promise  all  honorable  treatment  and  lenient  captivity 
to  the  leaders  of  the  rebels,  until  the  pleasure  of  his  grace  the 
king  be  known  ;  protection  to  all  females ;  liberty  to  those 
whose  rank  demands  not  their  detention ;  and  for  the  common 
soldiers,  on  the  delivery  of  their  arms  and  upper  garments,  and 
their  taking  a  solemn  oath  that  within  seven  days  they  will 
leave  Scotland  never  to  return,  liberty  and  life  shall  be  merci- 
fully extended  unto  one  and  all." 

"  And  if  we  do  not  this  ?" 

"  Your  blood  be  upon  your  own  rebellious  heads  !  Sacking 
and  pillage  must  take  their  course." 

"  Ye  have  heard,"  were  the  sole  words  that  passed  the  lips 
of  Nigel,  turning  to  his  men,  who,  roused  by  the  first  sound  of 
the  trumpet,  had  started  from  their  slumbers,  and  falling  in  a 
semicircle  round  him  and  Sir  Christopher,  listened  with  intense 
eagerness  to  the  herald's  words.  "  Ye  have  heard.  Speak, 
then — your  answer;  yours  shall  be  ours." 

"  Death !  death !  death  !"  was  the  universally  reiterated 
shout.  "  We  will  struggle  to  the  death.  Our  king  and  coun- 
try shall  not  say  we  deserted  them  because  we  feared  to  die  ; 
or  surrendered  on  terms  of  shame  as  these !  No ;  let  the  foe 
come  on  !  we  will  die,  if  we  may  not  live,  still  patriots  of  Scot- 
land !  King  Robert  will  avenge  us  !  God  save  the  Bruce !" 

Again,  and  yet  again  they  bade  God  bless  him  ;  and  start- 
lingly  and  thrillingly  was  the  united  voice  of  that  desperate, 
devoted  band  borne  on  the  wings  of  night  to  the  very  furthest 
tents  of  their  foes.  Calmly  Sir  Nigel  turned  again  to  the 
herald. 

"  Thou  hast  Scotland's  answer,"  he  said  ;  "  'tis  in  such  men 
as  -these  her  glorious  spirit  lives  !  they  will  fall  not  unavenged. 
Commend  us  to  your  masters ;  we  await  them  with  the  dawn," 
and,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  reassumed  the  posture  of  thought 
as  if  he  had  never  been  aroused. 

The  dawn  uprose,  the  attack  was  renewed  with  increased 
vigor,  and  defended  with  the  same  calm,  determined  spirit 
which  had  been  ever  shown ;  the  patriots  fell  where  they 
fought,  leaving  fearful  traces  of  their  desperate  courage  in  the 
numbers  of  English  that  surrounded  each.  ,  It  was  now  before 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  253 

the  principal  entrance  to  the  keep  they  made  their  final  stand, 
and  horrible  was  the  loss  of  life,  fierce  and  deadly  the  strife, 
ere  that  entrance  was  forced,  and  the  shrieks  of  women  and 
children  within  proclaimed  the  triumph  of  the  foe.  Then  came 
a  shout,  loud  ringing,  joyous,  echoed  and  re-echoed  by  the 
blast  of  the  trumpets  both  within  and  without,  and  the  proud 
banner  of  Scotland  was  hurled  contemptuously  to  the  earth, 
and  the  flag  of  England  floated  in  its  place.  Many  a  dying 
eye,  unclosed  by  those  sudden  sounds,  looked  on  that  emblem 
of  defeat  and  moved  not  in  life  again ;  others  sprung  up  to 
their  feet  with  wild  shrieks  of  defiance,  and  fell  back,  power- 
less, in  death. 

Sir  Christopher  Seaton,  whose  exhausted  frame  could  barely 
sustain  the  weight  of  his  armor,  had  been  taken  in  the  first 
charge,  fighting  bravely,  but  falling  from  exhaustion  to  the 
earth.  And  where  was  Nigel  ? — hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  yet 
seemingly  unwounded,  unconquered  still,  his  face  indeed  was 
deadly  pale,  and  there  were  moments  when  his  strokes  flagged 
as  from  an  utter  failing  of  strength  ;  but  if,  on  observing  this, 
his  foes  pressed  closer,  strength  appeared  to  return,  and  still, 
still  he  struggled  on.  He  sought  for  death ;  he  felt  that  he 
dared  his  destiny,  but  death  shunned  him ;  he  strove  with  his 
destiny  in  vain.  Not  thus  might  he  fall,  the  young,  the  gener- 
ous, the  gifted.  On  foot,  his  armor  hacked  and  stained  with 
blood,  not  yet  had  the  word  "  yield"  been  shouted  in  his  ear. 

"  Back,  back  !  leave  me  this  glorious  prize  !"  shouted  Lan- 
caster, spurring  on  his  charger  through  the  crowd,  and  leaping 
from  him  the  instant  he  neared  the  spot  where  Nigel  stood. 
"  Take  heed  of  my  gallant  horse,  I  need  him  not — I  shall  not 
need  him  now.  Ha  !  bareheaded  too  ;  well,  so  shall  it  be  with 
me — hand  to  hand,  foot  to  foot.  Turn,  noble  Nigel,  we  are 
well-nigh  equals  now,  and  none  shall  come  between  us."  He 
hastily  unclasped  his  helmet,  threw  it  from  his  brow,  and  stood 
in  the  attitude  of  defence. 

One  moment  Sir  Nigel  paused  ;  his  closing  foes  had  fallen 
from  him  at  the  words  of  their  leader  ;  he  hesitated  one  brief 
instant  as  to  whether  indeed  he  should  struggle  more,  or  de- 
liver up  his  sword  to  the  generous  earl,  when  the  shout  of  tri- 
umph from  the  topmost  turret,  proclaiming  the  raising  of  the 
banner,  fell  upon  his  ear,  and  nerved  him  to  the  onset. 

"  Noble  and  generous !"    he   exclaimed,   as   their  swords 


254  THE   DAYS    OF   BKUCE. 

crossed.  "  Might  I  choose  my  fate,  I  would  fall  by  thy  knight- 
ly sword." 

As  stupefied  with  wonder  at  the  skill,  the  extraordinary  ve- 
locity and  power  of  the  combatants,  the  men-at-arms  stood 
round,  without  making  one  movement  to  leave  the  spot ;  and 
fearful  indeed  was  that  deadly  strife ;  equal  they  seemed  in 
stature,  in  the  use  of  their  weapons,  in  every  mystery  of  the 
sword ;  the  eye  ached  with  the  rapid  flashing  of  the  blades, 
the  ear  tired  of  the  sharp,  unwavering  clash,  but  still  they 
quailed  not,  moved  not  from  the  spot  where  the  combat  had 
commenced. 

How  long  this  fearful  struggle  would  have  continued,  or 
who  would  finally  be  victor,  was  undecided  still,  when  sud- 
denly the  wild  mocking  laugh  of  madness  sounded  in  the  very 
ear  of  Nigel,  and  a  voice  shouted  aloud,  "  Fight  on,  my  bonny 
lord ;  see,  see,  how  I  care  for  your  winsome  bride,"  and  the 
maniac  form  of  Jean  Roy  rushed  by  through  the  thickest  ranks 
of  the  men,  swift,  swift  as  the  lightning  track.  A  veil  of  sil- 
ver tissue  floated  from  her  shoulder,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
bearing  something  in  her  arms,  but  what,  the  rapidity  of  her 
way  precluded  all  discovery.  The  fierce  soldiers  shrunk  away 
from  her,  as  if  appalled  by  her  gaunt,  spectral  look,  or  too 
much  scared  by  her  sudden  appearance  to  attempt  detaining 
her.  The  eye  of  Nigel  involuntarily  turned  from  his  foe  to 
follow  her  ;  he  recognized  the  veil,  and  fancy  did  the  rest.  He 
saw  her  near  a  part  of  the  wall  which  was  tottering  beneath 
the  engines  of  the  English  ;  there  was  a  wild  shriek  in  other 
tones  than  hers,  the  wall  fell,  burying  the  maniac  in  its  ruins. 
A  mist  came  over  the  senses  of  the  young  knight,  strength 
suddenly  fled  his  arm,  he  stepped  back  as  to  recover  himself, 
but  slipped  and  fell,  the  violence  of  the  fall  dashing  his  sword 
many  yards  in  air.  "  I  yield  me  true  prisoner,  rescue  or  no 
rescue,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  so  startling  in  its  agony  that  the 
rudest  heart  beside  him  shrunk  within  itself  appalled,  and  for 
a  minute  Lancaster  checked  the  words  upon  his  lips. 

"  Nay,  nay,  yield  not  in  such  tone,  my  gallant  foe !"  he 
said,  with  eager  courtesy,  and  with  his  own  hand  aiding  him 
to  rise.  "  Would  that  I  were  the  majesty  of  England,  I  should 
deem  myself  debased  did  I  hold  such  gallantry  in  durance. 
Of  a  truth,  thou  hast  robbed  me  of  my  conquest,  fair  sir,  for  it 
was  no  skill  of  mine  which  brought  thee  to  the  ground.  I  may 


THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  255 

thank  that  shrieking  mad  woman,  perchance,  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  my  laurels." 

"  I  give  you  thanks  for  your  courtesy,  my  lord,"  replied 
Sir  Nigel,  striving  to  recover  himself ;  "  but  I  pray  you  par- 
don me,  if  I  beseech  you  let  that  falling  mass  be  cleared  at 
once,  and  note  if  that  unhappy  woman  breathes.  Methought," 
he  added,  in  stronger  agitation,  "  she  carried  something  in  her 
arms." 

"  She  did,"  answered  many  voices  ;  "  some  child  or  girl, 
who  was  struggling,  though  the  head  was  muffled  up  as  if  to 
prevent  all  sounds." 

"  See  to  it,  and  bring  us  news  of  what  you  find,"  said  Lan- 
caster, hastily,  for  the  same  ghastly  expression  passed  over  the 
countenance  of  his  prisoner  as  had  startled  him  at  first.  "  Thou 
art  not  well,  my  good  lord  ?"  he  continued  kindly. 

"  Nay,  I  am  w«ll,  my  lord  ;  but  I  will  go  with  you,"  replied 
the  young  knight,  slowly,  as  if  collecting  strength  ere  he  could 
speak.  ""I" am  wearied  with  the  turmoil  of  the  last  twelve 
hours'  fighting  against  fire  and  sword  at  once ;  I  would  fain 
see  the  noble  Hereford,  and  with  his  permission  rest  me  a  brief 
while." 

Lancaster  made  no  further  comment,  and  the  two  knights, 
who  but  a  few  minutes  before  had  been  engaged  in  deadly 
strife,  now  made  their  way  together  through  the  heaps  of  the 
dying  and  the  dead,  through  many  a  group  of  rude  soldiery, 
who  scowled  on  Nigel  with  no  friendly  eye,  for  they  only  rec- 
ognized him  as  the  destroyer  of  hundreds  of  their  countrymen, 
not  the  chivalric  champion  who  had  won  the  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration of  their  leaders,  and  soon  found  themselves  in  the 
castle-hall,  in  the  presence  of  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  who  was 
surrounded  by  his  noblest  officers,  Sir  Christopher  and  Lady 
Seaton,  and  some  few  other  Scottish  prisoners,  most  of  whom 
were  badly  wounded.  He  advanced  to  meet  Sir  Nigel,  cour- 
teously, though  gravely. 

"  It  grieves  me,"  he  said,  "  to  receive  as  a  prisoner  a  knight 
of  such  high  renown  and  such  chivalric  bearing  as  Sir  Nigel 
Bruce ;  I  would  he  had  kept  those  rare  qualities  for  the  sov- 
ereign to  whom  they  were  naturally  due,  and  who  would  have 
known  how  to  have  appreciated  and  honor  them,  rather  than 
shed  such  lustre  on  so  weak  a  cause." 

"  Does  your  lordship  regard  the  freedom  of  an  oppressed 


256  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

country  so  weak  a  cause  ?"  replied  Nigel,  the  hot  blood  mount- 
ing to  his  cheek  ;  "  the  rising  in  defence  of  a  rightful  king,  in 
lieu  of  slavishly  adhering  to  one,  who,  though  so  powerful,  all 
good  men,  aye,  even  all  good  Englishmen,  must  look  on,  in  his 
claims  to  Scotland,  as  an  ambitious  usurper.  My  lord,  my 
lord,  the  spirit  of  Hereford  spoke  not  in  those  words  ;  but  I 
forgive  them,  for  I  have  much  for  which  to  proffer  thanks  unto 
the  noble  Hereford,  much,  that  his  knightly  soul  scorned  treach- 
ery and  gave  us  a  fair  field.  Durance  is  but  a  melancholy 
prospect,  yet  an  it  must  be  I  would  not  nobler  captors." 

"  Nor  would  I  forfeit  the  esteem  in  which  you  hold  me,  gal- 
lant sir,"  replied  the  earl,  "  and  therefore  do  I  pray  you,  com- 
mand my  services  in  aught  that  can  pleasure  you,  and  an  it 
interfere  not  with  my  duty  to  my  sovereign,  I  shall  be  proud 
to  give  them.  Speak,  I  pray  you." 

"  Nay,  I  can  ask  naught  which  the  Earl  of  Hereford  hath 
not  granted  of  himself,"  said  Sir  Nigel.  "  I  would  beseech 
you  to  extend  protection  to  all  the  females  of  this  unhappy 
castle  ;  to  part  not  my  sister  from  her  lord,  for,  as  you  see,  his 
wounds  and  weakness  call  for  woman's  care ;  to  grant  the 
leech's  aid  to  those  who  need  it ;  and  if  there  be  some  un- 
happy men  of  my  faithful  troop  remaining,  I  would  beseech 
you  show  mercy  unto  them,  and  let  them  go  free — they  can 
work  no  further  ill  to  Edward ;  they  can  fight  no  more  for 
Scotland,  for  she  lieth  chained  ;  they  have  no  head  and  there- 
fore no  means  of  resistance — I  beseech  you  give  them  freedom 
unshackled  by  conditions." 

"  It  shall  be,  it  shall  be,"  replied  Hereford,  hastily,  and  evi- 
dently moved  ;  "  but  for  thyself,  young  sir,  thyself,  can  we  do 
naught  for  thee  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  answered  tue  young  man,  calmly.  "  I  need 
little  more  on  earth,  for  neither  my  youth,  my  birth,  nor  what 
it  pleaseth  thee  to  term  my  gallantry,  will  save  me  from  the 
sweeping  axe  of  Edward.  I  would  beseech  thee  to  let  my 
death  atone  for  all,  and  redeem  my  noble  friends  ;  but  I  ask  it 
not,  for  I  know  in  this  thou  hast  no  power ;  and  yet,  though  I 
ask  nothing  now,"  he  added,  after  a  brief  pause,  and  in  a  lower 
voice,  as  to  be  heard  only  by  Hereford,  "  ere  we  march  to 
England  I  may  have  a  boon  to  crave — protection,  liberty  for  a 
beloved  one,  whose  fate  as  yet  I  know  not."  He  spoke  almost 
inarticulately,  for  again  it  seemed  the  horrid  words  and  maniac 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  257 

laugh  of  Jean  Roy  resounded  in  his  ears.  There  was  that  in 
the  look  and  manner  of  the  English  earl  inviting  confidence  :  a 
moment  the  tortured  young  man  longed  to  pour  all  into  his 
ear,  to  conjure  him  to  find  Agnes,  and  give  her  to  his  arms  ; 
the  next  he  refrained,  for  her  words,  "  Ask  not  how  I  will  con- 
trive to  abide  by  thee  undiscovered  by  the  foe,"  suddenly  flash- 
ed on  his  memory,  with  the  conviction  that  if  she  were  indeed 
still  in  life,  and  he  acknowledged  her  his  wife,  Hereford  would 
feel  himself  compelled  to  keep  her  under  restraint,  as  he  did 
Lady  Seaton  and  the  wives  of  other  noble  Scotsmen.  His  lip 
trembled,  but  fortunately  for  the  preservation  of  his  compo- 
sure, Hereford's  attention  was  called  from  him  by  the  eager 
entrance  of  several  other  officers,  who  all  crowded  round  him, 
alike  in  congratulation,  and  waiting  his  commands,  and  per- 
ceiving he  was  agitated,  the  earl  turned  from  him  with  a  cour- 
teous bow.  Eagerly  he  seized  that  moment  to  spring  to  the 
side  of  his  sister,  to  whisper  the  impatient  inquiry,  "  Agnes, 
where  is  Agnes  ?"  To  feel  his  heart  a  moment  throb  high, 
and  then  sink  again  by  her  reply,  that  she  had  not  seen  her 
since  he  had  placed  her  in  the  anus  of  the  seer  ;  that  in  the 
fearful  confusion  which  followed,  she  had  looked  for  her  in 
vain,  examined  all  her  accustomed  haunts,  but  discovered  no 
traces  of  her,  save  the  silver  tissue  veil.  There  was,  however, 
some  hope  in  that ;  Jean  Roy,  misled  by  the  glittering  article, 
and  seeing  it  perchance  in  the  hands  of  another,  might  have 
been  deceived  in  her  prey.  Nay,  he  welcomed  the  uncertainty 
of  suspense  ;  there  was  something  so  fearful,  so  horrible  in  the 
idea  that  his  own  faithful  Agnes  was  among  those  blackened 
and  mangled  bodies,  which  Lancaster  informed  him  had  been 
discovered  beneath  the  ruins,  something  so  sickening,  so  re- 
volting, he  could  not  take  advantage  of  the  earl's  offer  to  ex- 
amine them  himself,  though,  Lancaster  added,  it  would  not  be 
of  much  use,  for  he  challenged  their  dearest  friends  to  recog- 
nize them.  He  could  not  believe  such  was  her  fate.  Dermid 
had  not  been  seen  since  the  fatal  conclusion  of  their  marriage  ; 
he  knew  his  fidelity,  his  interest  in  both  Agnes  and  himself, 
and  he  could  not,  he  would  not  believe  the  maniac  had  de- 
coyed her  from  his  care.  But  where  was  she  ? — where,  in 
such  a  moment,  could  he  have  conveyed  her? — what  would 
be  her  final  fate  ? — how  would  she  rejoin  him  ?  were  ques- 
tions ever  thronging  on  his  heart  and  brain,  struggling  with 


258  THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

doubts,  with  the  horrible  suspicion  still  clinging  to  that  shriek 
which  had  sounded  as  the  ruins  fell.  Darker  and  more  fore- 
bodingly oppressive  grew  these  conflicting  thoughts,  as  day 
after  day  passed,  and  still  she  came  not,  nor  were  ther^  any 
tidings  of  the  seer. 

A  very  brief  interval  sufficed  for  the  English  earls  to  con- 
clude their  arrangements  at  Kildrummie,  and  prepare  to  march 
southward,  Berwick  being  the  frontier  town  to  which  the  Scot- 
tish prisoners  were  usually  conveyed.  Their  loss  had  been 
greater  than  at  any  other  similar  siege ;  more  than  a  third  of 
their  large  army  had  fallen,  several  others  were  wounded,  and 
not  much  above  a  third  remained  who  were  fitted  to  continue 
in  arms.  It  was  a  fearful  proof  of  the  desperate  valor  of  the 
besieged,  but  both  earls  felt  it  would  so  exasperate  their  sover- 
eign against  the  Scottish  commanders,  as  to  remove  the  slight- 
est hope  of  mercy.  The  ruins  were  with  some  labor  cleared 
away,  the  remains  of  the  outer  wall  levelled  with  the  earth, 
except  the  tower  communicating  with  the  drawbridge  and  bar- 
bacan,  which  could  be  easily  repaired.  The  inner  wall  Here- 
ford likewise  commanded  to  be  restored ;  the  keep  he  turned 
into  a  hospital  for  the  wounded,  leaving  with  them  a  sufficient 
garrison  to  defend  the  castle,  in  case  of  renewed  incursions  of 
the  Scottish  patriots,  a  case,  in  the  present  state  of  the  country, 
not  very  probable.  True  to  his  promise,  those  men-at-arms 
who  survived,  and  whose  wounds  permitted  their  removal, 
Hereford  set  at  liberty,  not  above  ten  in  number ;  dispirited, 
heart-broken,  he  felt  indeed  there  was  no  need  to  impose  con- 
ditions on  them.  Those  of  the  traitors  who  remained,  endeav-» 
ored  by  cringing  humility,  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  English  ; 
but  finding  themselves  shunned  and  despised,  for  the  common- 
est English  soldier  was  of  a  nature  too  noble  to  bear  with  aught 
of  treachery,  they  dispersed  over  the  country,  finding  little  in 
its  miserable  condition  to  impart  enjoyment  to  the  lives  they 
had  enacted  so  base  a  part  to  preserve.  It  may  be  well  to 
state,  ere  we  entirely  leave  the  subject,  that  the  execution  of 
Evan  Roy  exciting  every  evil  passion  in  their  already  rebellious 
hearts,  had  determined  them  to  conspire  for  a  signal  revenge, 
the  ravings  of  Jean  Roy  and  the  desperate  counsels  of  her 
mother-in-law  urging  them  to  the  catastrophe  we  have  related ; 
the  murder  of  Nigel  had  been  first  planned,  but  dismissed  as 
likely  to  be  discovered  and  thwarted,  and  bring  vengeance  on 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  259 

their  own  heads  instead  of  his.  Before  the  execution  of  their 
comrade  and  head  of  the  conspiracy,  they  had  only  been  de- 
sirous of  shunning  the  horrors  of  a  prolonged  siege  ;  but  after- 
wards, revenge  became  stronger  than  mere  personal  safety,  and 
therefore  was  it  they  refused  to  take  advantage  of  the  safe  con- 
duct demanded  by  Nigel,  and  granted,  as  we  have  said. 

The  Scottish  prisoners  were  removed  from  the  castle  a  few 
hours  after  its  capitulation,  and  placed  in  honorable  restraint, 
in  separate  pavilions.  Lancaster,  whose  romantic  admiration 
for  his  antagonist  had  not  been  in  the  least  diminished  by  Sir 
Nigel's  bearing  in  captivity  and  the  lofty  tone  of  the  young 
knight's  society  and  conversation,  which  he  frequently  courted, 
absolutely  made  him  shrink  from  heading  the  force  which  was 
to  conduct  him  a  prisoner  to  England,  for  he  well  knew  those 
very  qualities,  calling  forth  every  spark  of  chivalry  in  his  own 
bosom,  would  be  only  so  many  incitements  to  Edward  for  his 
instant  execution.  He  therefore  demanded  that  the  superin- 
tending the  works  of  the  garrison  and  keeping  a  strict  watch 
upon  the  movements  of  the  adjoining  country  should  devolve 
on  him,  and  Hereford,  as  the  older  and  wiser,  should  conduct 
his  prisoners  to  the  border,  and  report  the  events  of  the  siege 
to  his  sovereign.  His  colleague  acceded,  and  the  eighth  day 
from  the  triumph  of  the  besiegers  was  fixed  on  to  commence 
their  march. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  seventh  day  that  the  Earl  of 
Hereford,  then  engaged  in  earnest  council  with  Lancaster,  on 
subjects  relating  to  their  military  charge,  was  informed  that  an 
old  man  and  a  boy  so  earnestly  entreated  speech  with  him,  that 
they  had  even  moved  the  iron  heart  of  Hugo  de  1'Orme,  the 
earl's  esquire,  who  himself  craved  audience  for  them. 

"  They  must  bear  some  marvellous  charm  about  them,  an 
they  have  worked  upon  thee,  De  1'Orme,"  said  his  master, 
smiling.  "  In  good  sooth,  let  them  enter." 

Yet  there  was  nothing  very  striking  in  their  appearance  when 
they  came.  The  old  man  indeed  was  of  a  tall,  almost  majestic 
figure,  and  it  was  only  the  snowy  whiteness  of  his  hair  and 
flowing  beard  that  betrayed  his  age,  for  his  eye  was  still  bright, 
his  form  unbent.  He  was  attired  as  a  minstrel,  his  viol  slung 
across  his  breast,  a  garb  which  obtained  for  its  possessor  free 
entrance  alike  into  camp  and  castle,  hall  and  bower,  to  all  par- 
ties, to  all  lands,  friendly  or  hostile,  as  it  might  be.  His  com- 


260  THE   DAYS    OF   BRUCE. 

panion  was  a  slight  boy,  seemingly  little  more  than  thirteen  or 
fourteen,  with  small,  exquisitely  delicate  features ;  his  complex- 
ion either  dark  or  sunburnt ;  his  eyes  were  bent  down,  and 
their  long,  very  dark  lashes  rested  on  his  cheek,  but  when 
raised,  their  beautiful  blue  seemed  so  little  in  accordance  with 
the  brunette  skin,  that  the  sun  might  be  deemed  more  at  fault 
than  Nature ;  his  hair,  of  the  darkest  brown,  clustered  closely 
round  his  throat  in  short  thick  curls ;  his  garb  was  that  of  a 
page,  but  more  rude  than  the  general  habiliments  of  those  usu- 
ally petted  members  of  noble  establishments,  and  favored  both 
Hereford  and  Lancaster's  belief  that  he  was  either  the  son  or 
grandson  of  his  companion. 

"  Ye  are  welcome,  fair  sirs,"  was  the  elder  earl's  kindly  sal- 
utation, when  his  esquire  had  retired.  "  Who  and  what  are 
ye,  and  what  crave  ye  with  me  ?" 

"  We  are  Scotsmen,  an  it  so  please  you,  noble  lords,"  replied 
the  old  man;  "followers  and  retainers  of  the  house  of  Bruce, 
more  particularly  of  him  so  lately  fallen  into  your  power." 

"  Then,  by  mine  honor,  my  good  friends,  ye  had  done  wiser 
to  benefit  by  the  liberty  I  promised  and  gave  to  those  of  his 
followers  who  escaped  this  devastating  siege.  Wherefore  are 
ye  here  ?" 

"  In  the  name  of  this  poor  child,  to  beseech  a  boon,  my  noble 
lord  ;  for  me,  my  calling  permitteth  my  going  where  I  list,  un- 
questioned, unrestrained,  and  if  I  ask  permission  to  abide  with 
ye,  Scotsman  and  follower  of  the  Bruce  as  I  am,  I  know  ye 
will  not  say  me  nay." 

"  I  would  not,  an  ye  besought  such  a  boon,  old  man,"  an- 
swered the  earl ;  "  yet  I  would  advise  thee  to  tempt  not  thy 
fate,  for  even  thy  minstrel  garb,  an  thou  braggest  of  thy  service 
to  the  Bruce,  I  cannot  promise  to  be  thy  safeguard  in  Edward's 
court,  whither  I  give  ye  notice  I  wend  my  way  to-morrow's 
dawn.  For  this  child,  what  wouldst  thou — hath  he  no  voice, 
no  power  of  his  own  to  speak  ?" 

The  aged  minstrel  looked  at  his  charge,  whose  eyes  were 
still  bent  on  the  floor ;  the  heaving  of  his  doublet  denoted  some 
internal  emotion,  but  ere  the  old  man  could  answer  for  him,  he 
had  made  a  few  hasty  steps  forward,  and  bent  his  knee  before 
Hereford. 

"  'Tis  a  simple  boon  I  crave,  my  lord,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  so 
peculiarly  sweet,  that  it  seemed  to  impart  new  beauty  to  his 


THE   DAYS   OF  BEUCE.  261 

features  ;  "  a  very  simple  boon,  yet  my  lips  tremble  to  ask  it, 
for  thou  mayest  deem  it  more  weighty  than  it  seemeth  to  me, 
and  thou  alone  canst  grant  it." 

"  Speak  it,  fair  child,  whate'er  it  be,"  replied  the  earl,  reas- 
suringly, and  laying  his  hand  caressingly  on  the  boy's  head. 
"  Thou  art,  methinks,  over  young  to  crave  a  boon  we  may  not 
grant ;  too  young,  although  a  Scotsman,  for  Hereford  to  treat 
thee  aught  but  kindly.  What  wouldst  thou  ?" 

"  Permission  to  tend  on  my  young  lord,  Sir  Nigel  Bruce," 
answered  the  boy,  more  firmly,  and  for  the  first  time  fixing  the 
full  gaze  of  his  beautiful  eyes  on  the  earl's  face.  "  Oh,  my 
lord,  what  is  there  in  that  simple  boon  to  bid  thee  knit  thy 
brow  as  if  it  must  not  be  ?"  he  added,  more  agitated.  "  The 
noble  Hereford  cannot  fear  a  child ;  or,  if  he  doubted  me,  he 
cannot  doubt  the  honor  of  his  prisoner,  an  honor  purer  unsul- 
lied as  his  own." 

"  Thou  speakest  not  as  the  child  thou  seemest,"  replied 
Hereford,  musingly ;  "  and  yet  I  know  not,  misery  makes  sages 
of  us  long  ere  the  rose  of  youth  hath  faded.  For  this,  thy 
boon,  I  know  not  how  it  may  be  granted ;  it  is  not  usual  to 
permit  other  than  English  attendants  on  our  Scottish  prisoners. 
Since  Sir  Niel  Campbell's  escape  through  the  agency  of  his 
Scottish  attendant,  it  hath  been  most  strictly  prohibited." 

"  Oh,  do  not,  do  not  say  me  nay  !"  entreated  the  boy ;  "  I 
ask  but  to  share  his  imprisonment,  to  be  with  him,  serve  him, 
tend  him.  I  ask  no  more  liberty  than  is  granted  unto  him ; 
the  rudest,  coarsest  fare,  a  little  straw,  or  the  bare  ground  beside 
his  couch.  I  can  do  naught  to  give  him  freedom,  and  if  I  could, 
were  there  an  open  path  before  him — did  I  beseech  him  on  my 
knees  to  fly — if  he  hath  surrendered,  as  I  have  heard,  to  thee, 
rescue  or  no  rescue,  he  would  scorn  my  counsel,  and  abide  thy 
prisoner  still.  Oh,  no,  no  !  I  swear  to  thee  I  will  do  naught 
that  can  make  thee  regret  thou  hast  granted  an  orphan's 
prayer." 

"  And  who  art  thou  that  pleadeth  thus  ?"  inquired  the 
earl,  moved  alike  by  the  thrilling  sweetness  of  his  voice  and  the 
earnestness  of  his  manner.  "  Thou  must  have  some  wondrous 
interest  in  him  to  prefer  imprisonment  with  him  to  all  the  joys 
which  liberty  can  give." 

"And  I  have  interest,"  answered  the  boy,  fervently;  "the 
interest  of  gratitude,  and  faithfulness,  and  love.  An  orphan, 


262  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

miserably  an  orphan — alone  upon  the  wide  earth — he  hath  pro- 
tected, cherished,  aye,  and  honored  me  with  his  confidence  and 
love.  He  tended  me  in  sorrow,  and  I  would  pour  back  into  his 
noble  heart  all  the  love,  the  devotion  he  hath  excited  in  mine. 
Little  can  I  do,  alas !  naught  but  love  and  serve ;  yet,  yet,  I 
know  he  would  not  reject  even  this — he  would  let  me  love  him 
still !" 

"  Grant  the  poor  boy  his  boon,"  whispered  Lancaster,  hur- 
riedly ;  "  of  a  truth  he  moveth  even  me." 

"  Thine  heart  is  of  right  true  mettle,  my  child,"  said  his  col- 
league, even  tenderly.  "  Yet  bethink  thee  all  thou  must  endure 
if  I  grant  thy  boon ;  not  while  with  me,  for  there  would  be  a 
foul  blot  upon  my  escutcheon  did  so  noble  a  knight  as  Sir  Nigel 
Bruce  receive  aught  save  respect  and  honor  at  my  hands.  But 
in  this  business  I  am  but  a  tool,  an  agent ;  when  once  within 
the  boundaries  of  Edward's  court,  Sir  Nigel  is  no  longer  my 
prisoner ;  I  must  resign  him  to  my  sovereign ;  and  then,  I  dare 
not  give  thee  hope  of  gentle  treatment  either  for  thyself  or  him." 

"  I  will  brave  it,"  answered  the  boy,  calmly ;  "  danger,  aye, 
death  in  his  service,  were  preferable  to  my  personal  liberty, 
with  the  torture  of  the  thought  upon  me,  that  I  shrunk  from 
his  side  when  fidelity  and  love  were  most  needed." 

"  But  that  very  faithfulness,  that  very  love,  my  child,  will 
make  thy  fate  the  harder  ;  the  scaffold  and  the  axe,  if  not  the 
cord,"  he  added,  in  a  low,  stifled  tone,  "  I  fear  me,  will  be  his 
doom,  despite  his  youth,  his  gallantry — all  that  would  make 
me  save  him.  Thou  turnest  pale  at  the  bare  mention  of  such 
things,  how  couldst  thou  bear  to  witness  them  ?" 

"  Better  than  to  think  of  them  ;  to  sit  me  down  in  idle  safety 
and  feel  that  he  hath  gone  forth  to  this  horrible  doom,  and  I 
have  done  naught  to  soothe  and  tend  him  on  his  way,"  replied 
the  boy,  firmly,  though  his  very  lip  blanched  at  Hereford's 
words.  "  But  must  these  things  be  ?  Is  Edward  so  inex- 
orable ?"  ^ 

"  Aye,  unto  all  who  thwart  him  now,"  said  the  earl ;  "  there 
is  no  hope  for  any  of  the  race  of  Bruce.  Be  advised,  then, 
gentle  boy,  retain  thy  freedom  while  thou  mayest." 

"  No,  no  !"  he  answered,  passionately.  "  Oh,  do  not  seek  to 
fright  me  from  my  purpose  ;  do  not  think  aught  of  me,  save 
but  to  grant  my  boon,  and  oh,  I  will  bless  thee,  pray  for  thee 
to  my  dying  hour !  thou  wilt,  I  know  thou  wilt." 


THE   DAYS  OF  BRUCE.  263 

"  I  were  no  father  could  I  refuse  thee,  my  poor  child,"  he 
replied,  with  earnest  tenderness.  "  Alas  !  I  fear  me  thou  hast 
asked  but  increase  of  misery,  yet  be  it  as  thou  list.  And 
yet,"  he  added,  after  a  brief  pause,  during  which  the  boy  had 
sprung  from  his  knee,  with  an  inarticulate  cry  of  joy,  and  flung 
himself  into  the  minstrel's  arms,  "  Sir  Nigel  hath  resolutely 
refused  the  attendance  of  any  of  his  former  followers,  who 
would  willingly  have  attended  him  to  England.  Hast  thou  so 
much  influence,  thinkest  thou,  to  change  his  purpose  in  thy 
favor  ?" 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  the  boy,  timidly ;  "yet  an  it  please 
your  noble  lordship  to  permit  my  pleading  mine  own  cause 
without  witness,  I  may  prevail,  as  I  have  done  before." 

"  Be  it  so,  then,"  replied  the  earl.  "  And  now,  ere  we  part, 
I  would  bid  thee  remember  I  have  trusted  thee ;  I  have  granted 
that  to  thee,  without  condition,  with  perfect  liberty  of  action, 
which  to  others  could  only  have  been  granted  on  their  surren- 
dering themselves,  rescue  or  no  rescue,  even  as  thy  master.  I 
have  done  this,  trusting  to  that  noble  faithfulness,  the  candor 
and  honesty  of  youth,  which  hath  breathed  forth  in  all  that 
thou  hast  said.  Let  me  not  repent  it.  And  now,  Hugo  de 
I'Orme,"  he  called  aloud,  but  Lancaster  himself  declared  his 
intention  of  conducting  the  boy  to  Sir  Nigel's  tent,  and  the 
esquire  was  consequently  dismissed  ;  but  ere  they  departed,  the 
boy  turned  once  more  to  the  aged  minstrel. 

"  And  thou — whither  goest  thou  ?"  he  said,  in  low  yet  thril- 
ling tones.  "  My  more  than  father,  thou  hast  seen  thy  child's 
earnest  wish  fulfilled ;  that  for  which  thou  didst  conduct  me 
hither  is  accomplished  ;  yet  ere  I  say  farewell,  tell  me — oh,  tell 
me,  whither  goest  thou  ?" 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  the  old  man,  struggling  with  unex- 
pressed emotion ;  "  yet  think  not  of  me,  my  child,  I  shall  be 
free,  be  safe,  untouched  by  aught  of  personal  ill,  while  young 
and  lovely  ones,  for  whom  it  would  be  bliss  to  die,  are  crushed 
and  bleeding  in  their  spring ;  the  mountains,  and  rocks,  and 
woods,  yet  unstained  with  blood,  call  on  me  to  return,  and  be 
at  rest  within  their  caves.  The  love  I  bear  to  thee  and  him 
thou  seekest  hath  yet  a  louder  voice  to  bid  me  follow  ye.  I 
know  not  whither  I  shall  go,  yet  an  my  vision  telleth  that  thou 
needst  my  aid,  I  shall  not  be  far  from  thee.  Farewell,  my 
child  ;  and  ye,  true-hearted  lords,  the  blessing  pf  .'in  aged  man 


264:  THE    DAYS   OF   B.RUCE. 

repay  ye  for  the  kindly  deed  this  day  that  ye  have  done."  He 
pressed  the  boy  in  his  arms,  reverentially  saluted  the  earls,  and 
passed  from  the  tent  as  he  spoke. 

A  few  words  passed  between  the  warriors,  and  then  Lan- 
caster desired  the  page  to  follow  him.  In  silence  they  pro- 
ceeded through  the  camp,  avoiding  the  more  bustling  parts, 
where  the  soldiery  were  evidently  busied  in  preparing  for  the 
morrow's  march,  and  inclining  towards  the  wooded  bank  of  the 
river.  The  eye  of  the  Earl  of  Lancaster  had  scarcely  moved 
from  the  page  during  his  interview  Avith  Hereford,  though  the 
boy,  engrossed  in  his  own  feelings,  had  failed  to  remark  it. 
He  now  glanced  rapidly  and  searchingly  round  him,  and  per- 
ceiving the  ground  perfectly  clear,  not  a  soldier  visible,  he  sud- 
denly paused  in  his  hasty  stride,  and  laying  his  hand  heavily 
on  the  boy's  shoulder,  said,  in  a  deep,  impressive  voice,  "  I 
know  not  who  or  what  thou  art,  but  I  love  thy  master,  and 
know  that  he  is  ill  at  ease,  not  from  captivity,  but  from  uncer- 
tainty as  to  the  fate  of  one  beloved.  If  it  be,  as  I  suspect,  in 
thy  power  entirely  to  remove  this  uneasiness,  be  cautioned,  and 
whoever  thou  mayest  be,  let  not  one  in  this  camp,  from  the 
noble  Earl  of  Hereford  himself  to  the  lowest  soldier,  suspect 
thou  art  other  than  thou  seemest — a  faithful  page.  The  rage 
of  Edward  is  deadly,  and  all  Avho  bear  the  name  of  Bruce,  be 
it  male  or  female,  will  suffer  from  that  wrath.  Tell  this  to  thy 
lord.  I  ask  not  his  confidence  nor  thine,  nay,  I  would  refuse 
it  were  it  offered — I  would  know  no  more  than  my  own 
thoughts,  but  I  honor  him,  aye,  and  from  my  very  heart  I 
honor  thee  !  Hush !  not  a  word  in  answer  ;  my  speech  is  rude, 
but  my  heart  is  true ;  and  now  a  few  steps  more  and  we  are 
there,"  and  without  waiting  for  reply  he  turned  suddenly,  and 
the  page  found  himself  in  the  very  centre  of  the  camp,  near  the 
entrance  of  a  small  pavilion,  before  which  two  sentinels  were 
stationed,  fully  armed,  and  pacing  up  and  down  their  stated 
posts;  the  pennon  of  Hereford  floated  from  the  centre  staff, 
above  the  drapery,  marking  the  tent  and  all  its  appurtenances 
peculiarly  the  earl's.  The  watchword  was  exchanged,  and  the 
sentinels  lowered  their  arms  on  recognizing  one  of  their  leaders. 

"  Let  this  boy  have  egress  and  ingress  from  and  to  this  tent, 
unquestioned  and  unmolested,"  he  said  ;  "  he  has  the  Earl  of 
Hereford's  permission,  nay,  commands,  to  wait  on  Sir  Nigel 
Bruce.  His  business  lieth  principally  with  him  ;  but  if  he  hath 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  265 

need  to  quit  his  side,  he  is  to  pass  free.  Report  this  to  your 
comrades."  The  soldiers  bowed  in  respectful  acquiescence. 
"For  thee,  young  man,  this  toy  will  give  thee  free  passage 
where  thou  listeth,  none  shall  molest  thee ;  and  now,  farewell — 
God  speed  thee."  He  unclasped  a  ruby  brooch,  curiously  set 
in  antique  gold,  from  his  collar,  and  placed  it  in  the  boy's  hand. 

"  Dost  thou  not  enter '?"  asked  the  page,  in  a  voice  that  quiv- 
ered, and  the  light  of  the  torches  falling  full  on  his  face  dis- 
closed to  Lancaster  a  look  of  such  voiceless  gratitude,  it 
haunted  him  for  many  a  long  day. 

"No,"  he  said,  half  smiling,  and  in  a. lower  voice;  "hast 
thou  forgotten  thy  cause  was  to  be  pleaded  without  witness  ? 
I  have  not,  if  thou  hast.  I  will  see  thy  noble  master  ere  he 
depart,  not  now ;  thou  wilt,  I  trust  me,  take  him  better  com- 
fort than  I  could." 

He  lifted  the  hangings  as  he  spoke,  and  the  boy  passed  in, 
his  heart  beating  well-nigh  to  suffocation  as  he  did  so.  It  was 
in  a  small  compartment  leading  to  the  principal  chamber  of  the 
tent  he  found  himself  at  first,  and  Sir  Nigel  was  not  there. 
With  a  fleet,  yet  noiseless  movement,  he  drew  aside  the  mas- 
sive curtain,  let  it  fall  again  behind  him,  and  stood  unperceived 
in  the  presence  of  him  he  sought. 

The  brow  of  Sir  Nigel  rested  on  his  hand,  his  attitude  was 
as  one  bowed  and  drooping  'neath  despondency ;  the  light  of 
the  taper  fell  full  upon  his  head,  bringing  it  out  in  beautiful 
profile.  It  was  not  his  capture  alone  which  had  made  him 
thus,  the  boy  felt  and  knew ;  the  complicated  evils  which  at- 
tended his  king  and  country  in  his  imprisonment  were  yet  not 
sufficient  to  crush  that  spirit  to  the  earth.  It  was  some  other 
anxiety,  some  yet  nearer  woe  ;  there  had  been  many  strange 
rumors  afloat,  both  of  Sir  Nigel's  bridal  and  the  supposed  fate 
of  that  bride,  and  the  boy,  though  he  knew  them  false,  aye, 
and  that  the  victim  of  Jean  Roy  was  a  young  attendant  of 
Agnes,  who  had  been  collecting  together  the  trinkets  of  her 
mistress,  to  save  them  from  the  pillage  which  would  attend  the 
conquest  of  the  English,  and  had  been  thus  mistaken  by  the 
maniac — the  boy,  we  say,  though  he  knew  this,  had,  instead  of 
denying  it,  encouraged  the  report,  and  therefore  was  at  no  loss 
to  discover  his  master's  woe.  He  advanced,  knelt  down,  and  in 
a  trembling,  husky  voice,  addressed  him.  "  My  lord — Sir  Nigel." 

The  young  knight  started,  and  looked  at  the  intruder,  evi- 
12 


266  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUGE. 

dently  without  recognizing  him.  "  What  wouldst  thou  ?"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  somewhat  stern.  "  Who  art  thou,  thus  boldly 
intruding  on  my  privacy  ?  Begone,  I  need  the  not !" 

"  The  Earl  of  Hereford  hath  permitted  me  to  tend  thee,  fol- 
low thee,"  answered  the  page  in  the  same  subdued  voice.  "  My 
gracious  lord,  do  not  thou  refuse  me." 

"Tend  me — follow  me!  whither — to  the  scaffold?  Seek 
some  other  master,  my  good  boy.  I  know  thee  not,  and  can 
serve  thee  little,  and  need  no  earthly  aid.  An  thou  seekest 
noble  service,  go  follow  Hereford ;  he  is  a  generous  and  knightly 
lord." 

"But  I  am  Scotch,  my  lord,  and  would  rather  follow  thee  to 
death  than  Hereford  to  victory." 

"  Poor  child,  poor  child  !"  repeated  Nigel,  sadly.  "  I  should 
know  thee,  methinks,  an  thou  wouldst  follow  me  so  faithfully, 
and  yet  I  do  not.  What  claim  have  I  upon  thy  love  ?" 

"  Dost  thou  not  know  me,  Nigel  ?"  The  boy  spoke  in  his 
own  peculiarly  sweet  and  most  thrilling  voice,  and  raising  his 
head,  fixed  his  full  glance  upon  the  knight. 

A  wild  cry  burst  from  Nigel's  lips,  he'  sprang  up,  gazed 
once  again,  and  in  another  moment  the  page  and  knight  had 
sprung  into  each  other's  arms  ;  the  arms  of  the  former  were 
twined  round  the  warrior's  neck,  and  Sir  Nigel  had  bent  down 
his  lordly  head ;  burning  tears  and  impassioned  kisses  were 
mingled  on  the  soft  cheek  that  leaned  against  his  breast. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE  ancient  town  of  Berwick-upon-Tweed,  associated  as  it 
is  with  Scottish  and  English  history  from  the  time  these  two 
kingdoms  had  a  name,  presented  a  somewhat  different  aspect 
in  the  year  1307  to  that  of  the  present  day.  The  key  to  both 
countries,  it  was  ever  a  scene  of  struggle,  unless  the  sister 
kingdoms  chanced  to  be  at  peace,  an  event  in  the  middle  ages 
of  rare  occurrence,  and  whoever  was  its  fortunate  possessor  was 
undeniably  considered  as  the  greater  power.  Since  the  death 
of  Alexander  it  had  been  captured  no  less  than  three  times  by 
Edward  in  1296,  by  Wallace  the  succeeding  year,  and  recap- 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  267 

tured  by  the  English  the  following  spring.  To  Edward,  con- 
sequently, it  now  belonged,  and  many  and  fearful  had  been  the 
sanguinary  executions  its  walls  had  beheld.  Its  streets  had 
been  deluged  with  noble  Scottish  blood ;  its  prisons  filled  with 
the  nobles  of  Scotland  ;  even  high-minded  women,  who  by 
their  countenance  and  faithfulness  had  given  a  yet  higher  tone 
to  patriotism  and  valor,  were  said  to  be  there  immured.  It 
might  have  been  termed  not  alone  the  key,  but  the  dungeon 
and  grave  of  Scotland  ;  and  many  a  noble  spirit  which  had 
never  quailed  in  the  battle's  front,  shrunk  back  appalled  as  it 
neared  those  dismal  walls. 

In  the  time  of  Edward,  the  fortifications,  though  merely  con- 
sisting of  a  deep  moat  and  wooden  palisades,  instead  of  the 
stone  wall  still  remaining,  inclosed  a  much  larger  space  than 
the  modern  town.  A  magnificent  castle,  with  its  "mounts, 
rampiers,  and  flankers,"  its  towers,  walls,  and  courts,  crowned 
an  easy  ascent  overhanging  the  Tweed,  and  was  at  this  period 
peopled  by  a  powerful  garrison,  filled  with  immense  stores,  both 
of  arms,  artillery,  and  provisions,  and  many  unhappy  prisoners, 
who  from  their  lonely  turrets  could  look  beyond  the  silver 
Tweed  on  their  own  beautiful  land,  their  hearts  burning  with 
the  vain  desire  to  free  her  from  her  chains.  Both  square  and 
round  towers  guarded  the  palisades  and  moat  surrounding  the 
town,  which  presented  a  goodly  collection  of  churches,  hospi- 
tals, dwelling-houses,  stores,  and  monastic  buildings  ;  from  all 
of  which  crowds  were  continually  passing  and  repassing  on 
their  several  ways,  and  forming  altogether  a  motley  assemblage 
of  knights,  nobles,  men-at-arms,  archers,  the  various  orders  of 
monks,  the  busy  leech  from  the  hospital,  the  peaceful  burgher, 
the  bustling  storekeeper,  and  artisan,  noble  dames  and  pretty 
maidens — all  in  the  picturesque  costumes  of  the  day,  jostling 
one  another,  unconscious  of  the  curious  effect  they  each  assisted 
to  produce,  and  ever  and  anon  came  the  trampling  of  fiery 
steeds.  It  was  a  rich,  thriving,  bustling  town,  always  present- 
ing curious  scenes  of  activity,  at  present  apparently  under  some 
excitement,  which  the  gay  knights  and  their  followers  tended 
not  a  little  to  increase. 

The  popular  excitement  had,  strange  to  say,  been  confined 
for  an  unusually  long  time  to  one  subject.  Orders  had  been 
received  from  King  Edward  for  the  erection  of  an  extraordinary 
cage  or  tower,  curiously  worked  in  stone  and  iron,  on  the  very 


268  THE   DAYS   OF  EKTJCE. 

highest  turret  of  the  castle,  visible  to  every  eye,  of  a  circular 
form,  with  pyramidal  points,  supporting  gilded  balls,  giving  it 
the  appearance,  when  completed,  of  a  huge  coronet  or  crown. 
It  was  barred  and  cross-barred  with  iron  on  all  sides,  effectually 
preventing  egress  from  within,  but  exposing  its  inmate,  whoever 
that  might  be,  to  every  passer-by.  The  impatient  king  had 
commanded  several  of  the  artisans  employed  in  its  erection  to 
be  thrown  into  prison,  because  it  was  not  completed  fast  enough 
to  please  him  ;  but,  despite  his  wrath  and  impatience,  the  work 
of  fashioning  the  iron,  wood,  and  stone,  as  he  required,  occa- 
sioned them  to  proceed  but  slowly,  and  it  was  now,  three 
months  after  the  royal  order  had  been  given,  only  just  com- 
pleted, and  firmly  fixed  on  the  principal  turret  of  the  castle. 
Day  after  day  the  people  flocked  to  gaze  and  marvel  for  whom 
it  could  be  intended,  and  when  it  would  be  occupied ;  their 
thoughts  only  turned  from  it  by  the  intelligence  that  the  Earl 
of  Hereford,  with  some  Scottish  prisoners  of  high  rank,  was 
within  four-and-twenty  hours'  march  of  the  town,  and  was  there 
to  deliver  up  his  captives  to  the  seneschal  of  the  castle,  the 
Earl  of  Berwick.  At  the  same  time  rumors  were  afloat,  that 
the  prisoner  for  whom  that  cage  had  been  erected  was,  under  a 
strong  guard,  advancing  from  Carlisle,  and  likely  to  encounter 
Hereford  at  the  castle  gates. 

The  popular  excitement  increased  threefold  ;  the  whole 
town  seemed  under  the  influence  of  a  restless  fever,  utterly 
preventing  the  continuance  of  their  usual  avocations,  or  permit- 
ting them  to  rest  quiet  in  their  houses.  Crowds  filled  the 
streets,  and  pressed  and  fumed  to  obtain  places  by  the  great 
gates  and  open  squares  of  the  castle,  through  which  both  par- 
ties must  pass.  That  wind,  rain,  and  sunshine  alternately 
ruled  the  day,  was  a  matter  of  small  importance  ;  nor  did  it 
signify  that  English  soldiers  were  returning  victorious,  with 
Scottish  prisoners,  being  a  thing  now  of  most  common  occur- 
rence. Before  the  day  was  over,  however,  they  found  antici- 
pation for  once  had  been  less  marvellous  than  reality,  and 
stranger  things  were  seen  and  heard  than  they  had  dreamed  of. 

From  sunrise  till  noon  they  waited  and  watched,  and  waxed 
impatient  in  vain.  About  that  time  trumpets  and  drums  were 
heard  from  the  south,  and  there  was  a  general  rush  towards 
the  bridge,  and  hearts  beat  high  in  expectancy  of  they  knew 
not  what,  as  a  gallant  band  of  English  archers  and  men-at- 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

arms,  headed  by  some  few  knights,  were  discovered  slowly  and 
solemnly  advancing  from  the  Carlisle  road.  Where,  and  who 
was  the  prisoner  ?  A  person  of  some  consequence,  of  danger- 
ous influence  it  must  be,  else  why  had  the  king  made  such  ex- 
traordinary provision  for  confinement  ?  There  were  not  want- 
ing suggestions  and  guesses,  and  wondrous  fancies  ;  for  as  yet 
there  was  such  a  close  guard  in  the  centre  of  the  cavalcade, 
that  the  very  person  of  the  prisoner  could  not  be  distinguished. 
Nay,  there  were  some  who  ventured  to  hint  and  believe  it  might 
be  the  excommunicated  Earl  of  Carrick  himself.  It  was  most 
likely,  for  whom  else  could  the  cage,  so  exactly  like  a  crown, 
be  intended  ?  and  there  were  many  who  vaunted  the  wise 
policy  of  Edward,  at  having  hit  on  such  an  expedient  for  low- 
ering his  rival's  pride.  Others,  indeed,  declared  the  idea  was 
all  nonsense ;  it  was  not  likely  he  would  incur  such  expense, 
king  as  he  was,  merely  to  mortify  a  traitor  he  had  sworn  to 
put  to  death.  The  argument  waxed  loud  and  warm.  Mean- 
while the  cavalcade  had  crossed  the  bridge,  been  received 
through  the  south  gate,  and  in  the  same  slow  and  solemn  pomp 
proceeded  through  the  town. 

"  By  all  the  saints,  it  is  only  a  woman !"  was  the  information 
shouted  by  an  eager  spectator,  who  had  clambered  above  the 
heads  of  his  fellows  to  obtain  the  first  and  most  coveted  view. 
His  words  were  echoed  in  blank  amazement. 

"  Aye,  clothed  in  white  like  a  penitent,  with  her  black  hair 
streaming  all  over  her  shoulders,  without  any  covering  on  her 
head  at  all,  and  nothing  but  a  thin,  torn  sandal  on  her  bare  feet ; 
and  the  knights  look  black  as  thunder,  as  if  they  like  not  the 
business  they  are  engaged  in." 

It  was  even  so.  There  was  an  expression  on  the  face  of  the 
officers  impossible  to  be  misunderstood ;  frowningly,  darkly, 
they  obeyed  their  sovereign's  mandate,  simply  because  they 
dared  not  disobey ;  but  there  was  not  one  among  them  who 
would  not  rather  have  sought  the  most  deadly  front  of  battle 
than  thus  conduct  a  woman,  aye,  and  a  most  noble  one,  unto 
her  prison.  The  very  men,  rude,  stern,  as  they  mostly  were, 
shared  this  feeling  ;  they  guarded  her  with  lowered  heads  and 
knitted  brows  ;  and  if  either  officer  or  man-at-arms  had  to  ad- 
dress her,  it  was  with  an  involuntary  yet  genuine  movement 
and  manner  of  respect  that  little  accorded  with  their  present 
relative  position.  The  crowds  looked  first  at  the  cavalcade 


270  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

and  marvelled,  then  at  the  prisoner,  and  they  did  not  marvel 
more. 

Clad  as  she  was,  in  white,  flowing  garments,  very  similar  to 
those  worn  by  penitents,  her  head  wholly  undefended  from 
cold  or  rain  even  by  a  veil ;  her  long,  luxuriant,  jet-black  hair, 
in  which  as  yet,  despite  of  care  and  woe,  no  silver  thread  had 
mingled,  falling  round  her  from  her  noble  brow,  which  shone 
forth  from  its  shade  white  as  snow,  and  displaying  that  most 
perfect  face,  which  anguish  had  only  chiselled  into  paler,  purer 
marble  ;  it  could  not  rob  it  of  its  beauty,  that  beauty  which  is 
the  holy  emanation  of  the  soul,  that  lingered  still  with  power 
to  awe  the  rudest  heart,  to  bow  the  proudest  in  voluntary 
respect. 

The  sovereign  of  England  had  commanded  this  solemn  pro- 
cession and  its  degrading  accompaniments  to  humble,  to  crush 
to  dust,  the  woman  who  had  dared  defy  his  power,  but  it  was 
himself  alone  he  humbled.  As  she  walked  there,  surrounded  by 
guards,  by  gazing  hundreds,  on  foot,  and  but  protected  from 
the  flinty  ground  by  a  thin  sandal,  her  step  was  as  firm  and 
unfaltering,  her  attitude,  her  bearing  as  dignified,  as  calmly, 
imposingly  majestic  as  when,  in  the  midst  of  Scotland's  pa- 
triots, she  had  placed  the  crown  on  the  Bruce's  head.  Edward 
sought  to  debase  her,  but  she  was  not  debased  ;  to  compel  her 
to  regret  the  part  that  she  had  acted,  but  she  gloried  in  it  still ; 
to  acknowledge  his  power — but  in  all  he  failed. 

Calmly  and  majestically  the  Countess  of  Buchan  proceeded 
on  her  way,  neither  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  nor  evincing 
by  the  slightest  variation  of  countenance  her  consciousness  of 
the  many  hundreds  gazing  on,  or  that  they  annoyed  or  disturbed 
her ;  her  spirit  was  wrapt  in  itself.  We  should  assert  false- 
hood did  we  say  she  did  not  suffer ;  she  did,  but  it  was  a 
mother's  agony  heightened  by  a  patriot's  grief.  She  believed 
her  son,  who  had  been  in  truth  the  idol  of  her  mourning  heart, 
had  indeed  fallen.  Her  Agnes  was  not  amongst  the  queen's 
train,  of  whose  captivity  she  had  been  made  aware,  though  not 
allowed  speech  with  them.  Where  was  she — what  would  be 
her  fate  ?  She  only  knew  her  as  a  lovely,  fragile  flower,  liable 
to  be  crushed  under  the  first  storm  ;  and  pictured  her,  rudely 
severed  from  Nigel,  perchance  in  the  hands  of  some  lawless 
spoiler,  and  heart-broken,  dying.  Shuddering  with  anguish, 
she  thought  not  of  her  own  fate — she  thought  but  of  her  chil- 


THE  DATS   OF  BKUCE.  271 

dren,  of  her  country  ;  and  if  King  Robert  did  enter  these  vis- 
ions, it  was  simply  as  her  sovereign,  as  one  whose  patriotism 
would  yet  achieve  the  liberty  of  Scotland  ;  but  there  was  a 
dimness  even  o'er  that  dream,  for  the  figure  of  her  noble  boy 
was  gone,  naught  but  a  blank — dull,  shapeless — occupied  that 
spot  in  the  vision  of  the  future,  which  once  his  light  had  filled. 

The  castle-yard  was  at  length  gained,  and  a  halt  and  some 
change  in  the  line  of  march  ensued ;  the  officers  and  men 
formed  in  a  compact  crescent,  leaving  the  countess,  a  herald, 
trumpeters,  and  some  of  the  highest  knights,  in  front.  So  in- 
tense was  the  interest  of  the  crowd  at  this  moment,  that  they 
did  not  heed  the  rapid  advance  of  a  gallant  body  of  horse  and 
foot  from  the  north,  except  to  rail  at  the  pressure  they  occasioned 
in  forcing  their  way  through.  They  gained  the  castle-yard  at 
length,  and  there  halted,  and  fell  back  in  utter  astonishment  at 
the  scene  they  witnessed. 

The  herald  had  drawn  a  parchment  from  his  belt,  and  made 
a  step  forward  as  if  to  speak.  The  knights,  in  sullen  silence, 
leant  upon  their  sheathed  swords,  without  even  glancing  at 
their  prisoner,  who  appeared  far  the  most  composed  and  digni- 
fied of  all  present,  and,  after  a  brief  pause,  words  to  this  effect 
were  distinguished  by  the  crowd. 

"  To  our  loyal  and  loving  subjects  of  both  North  and  South 
Britain,  Edward,  by  the  grace  of  God,  King  of  England,  Wales, 
France,  and  Scotland,  greeting.  Whereas  Isabella,  born  of 
Fife,  and  late  of  Buchan,  which  latter  she  hath,  by  foul  dis- 
honor and  utter  disregard  of  marriage  vows,  now  forfeited, 
hath  done  traitorously  and  disloyally  alike  to  her  sovereign  lord 
the  king,  and  to  her  gracious  lord  and  husband,  John,  Earl  of 
Buchan,  whom,  for  his  fidelity,  we  hold  in  good  favor.  As  she 
hath  not  struck  by  the  sword,  so  she  shall  not  perish  by  the 
sword  ;  but  for  her  lawless  conspiracy,  she  shall  be  shut  up  in 
a  stone  and  iron  chamber,  circular  as  the  crown  she  gave,  in 
this  proclaiming  to  both  countries  her  everlasting  infamy.  And 
this  we  do  in  mercy ;  for,  whereas  she  deserveth  death,  we  do 
remit  the  same,  and  give  her  time  to  repent  her  of  her  heinous 
crime. 

"  Given  at  our  palace  of  Carlisle,  this  twenty-third  day  of 
February,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  one  thousand 
three  hundred  and  seven.  God  save  the  King !" 

But  the  loyal  ejaculation  was  not  echoed,  nay,  the  herald 


272  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

himself  had  read  the  proclamation,  as  if  every  word  had  been 
forced  from  him,  and  the  eyes  of  every  knight  and  soldier  had 
been  fixed  upon  the  ground,  as  if  shame  rested  on  them  rather 
than  on  their  prisoner.  A  dead  silence  for  a  few  minutes  fol- 
lowed, broken  only  by  some  faint  cries  of  "  God  save  King 
Edward,  and  down  with  all  traitors !"  which  seemed  raised 
more  to  drown  the  groans  which  involuntarily  burst  forth,  than 
as  the  echo  of  the  heart.  They  dared  not  evince  the  faintest 
sign  of  disapproval,  for  they  stood  on  precarious  ground ;  a 
groan  even  might  be  punished  by  their  irritable  king  as  treach- 
ery ;  but  there  was  one  present  who  cared  little  for  this  charge. 
Scarcely  had  the  words  passed  the  herald's  lips,  before  a 
young  man,  whose  bare  head  and  lack  of  all  weapons  would 
have  proclaimed  him  one  of  the  Earl  of  Hereford's  prisoners, 
had  not  the  attention  of  all  been  turned  from  him  by  the  ore 
engrossing  object,  now  snatching  a  sword  from  a  soldier  near 
him,  sprung  from  his  horse,  and  violently  attacking  the  herald, 
exclaimed,  in  a  voice  of  thunder — 

"  Liar  and  slave !  thinkest  thou  there  is  none  near  to  give 
the  lie  to  thy  foul  slanders — none  to  defend  the  fair  fame,  the 
stainless  honor  of  this  much-abused  lady  ?  Dastard  and  cow- 
ard, fit  mouthpiece  of  a  dishonored  and  blasphemous  tyrant ! 
go  tell  him,  his  prisoner — aye,  Nigel  Bruce — thrusts  back  his 
foul  lies  into  his  very  teeth.  Ha  !  coward  find  slave,  wouldst 
thou  shun  me  ?" 

A  scene  of  indescribable  confusion  now  ensued.  The  herald, 
a  man  not  much  in  love  with  Avar,  stood  cowering  and  trem- 
bling before  his  adversary,  seeking  to  cover  himself  with  his 
weapon,  but,  from  his  trembling  hold,  ineffectually.  The 
stature  of  the  youthful  Scotsman  appeared  towering,  as  he 
stood  over  him  with  his  uplifted  sword,  refusing  to  strike  a 
defenceless  man,  but  holding  him  with  a  gripe  of  iron ;  his 
cheek  flushed  crimson,  his  nostrils  distended,  for  his  soul  was 
moved  with  a  mightier,  darker  passion  than  had  ever  stirred 
its  depths  before.  The  soldiers  of  both  parties,  joined,  too,  by 
some  from  the  castle — for  a  party  headed  by  the  Earl  of  Ber- 
wick himself  had  attended  to  give  countenance  to  the  procla- 
mation— rushed  forward,  but  involuntarily  fell  back,  awed  for 
the  moment  by  the  mighty  spirit  of  one  man ;  the  knights, 
roused  from  their  sullen  posture,  looked  much  as  if  they  would, 
if  they  dared,  have  left  the  herald  to  his  fate.  Hereford  and 


THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE.  273 

Berwick  at  the  same  instant  spurred  forward  their  steeds,  the 
one  exclaiming,  "  Madman,  let  go  your  hold — you  are  tempt- 
ing your  own  fate  !  Nigel,  for  the  love  of  heaven  !  for  the 
sake  of  those  that  love  you,  be  not  so  rash  !"  the  other  thun- 
dering forth,  "  Cut  down  the  traitor,  an  he  will  not  loose  his 
hold.  Forward,  cowardly  knaves  !  will  ye  hear  your  king  in- 
sulted, and  not  revenge  it  ? — forward,  I  say  !  fear  ye  a  single 
man  ?" 

And  numbers,  spurred  on  by  his  words,  dashed  forward  to 
obey  him,  but  fearlessly  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  retained  his  hold  with 
his  left  hand,  and  with  his  right  grasped  tighter  his  sword,  and 
stood,  with  the  fierce  undaunted  port  of  a  lion  lashed  into  fury, 
gazing  on  his  foes;  but  ere  he  had  crossed  with  the  foremost 
weapons,  a  slight  lad  burst  through  the  gathering  crowd,  and 
with  a  piercing  shriek  threw  himself  at  his  master's  feet,  and 
grasping  his  knees,  seemed  by  his  pleading  looks,  for  his  words 
were  inaudible,  imploring  him  to  desist  from  his  rashness.  At 
the  same  moment  another  form  pressed  through  the  soldiers, 
her  look,  her  mien  compelling  them  involuntarily  to  open  their 
ranks  and  give  her  passage.  The  sword  of  Nigel  was  in  the 
act  of  falling  on  a  second  foe,  the  first  lay  at  his  feet,  when  his 
arm  was  caught  in  its  descent,  and  Isabella  of  Buchan  stood  at 
his  side. 

"  Forbear !"  she  said,  in  those  rich  impressive  tones  that  ever 
forced  obedience.  "  Nigel  Bruce,  brother  of  my  sovereign, 
friend  of  my  son,  forbear !  strike  not  one  blow  for  me.  Mine 
honor  needs  no  defence  by  those  that  love  me ;  my  country 
will  acquit  me ;  the  words  of  England's  monarch,  angered  at  a 
woman's  defiance  of  his  power,  affect  me  not !  Noble  Nigel, 
excite  not  further  wrath  against  thyself  by  this  vain  struggle 
for  my  sake ;  put  up  thy  sword,  ere  it  is  forced  from  thee. 
Let  go  thy  hold ;  this  man  is  but  an  instrument,  why  wreak 
thy  wrath  on  him  ?  Must  I  speak,  implore  in  vain  ?  Nay, 
then,  I  do  command  thee  !" 

And  those  who  gazed  on  her,  as  she  drew  that  stately  form 
to  its  full  height,  as  they  heard  those  accents  of  imperative 
command,  scarce  marvelled  that  Edward  should  dread  her  in- 
fluence, woman  as  she  was.  Despite  the  increasing  wrath  on 
the  Earl  of  Berwick's  brow,  the  men  waited  to  see  the  effect  of 
these  words.  There  was  still  an  expression  of  ill-controlled 
passion  on  Nigel's  features.  He  waited  one  moment  when  she 

12* 


274  THE   DAYS   OF   BKTJCE. 

ceased  to  speak,  then  slowly  and  deliberately  shook  the  herald 
by  the  collar,  and  hurled  him  from  his  hold;  snapped  his 
sword  in  twain,  and  flinging  it  from  him,  folded  his  arms  on  his 
breast,  and  calmly  uttering,  "Pardon  me,  noble  lady,  mine 
honor  were  impugned  had  I  suffered  that  dastardly  villain  to 
pass  hence  unpunished — let  Edward  act  as  he  lists,  it  matters 
little  now,"  waited  with  impenetrable  resolve  the  rage  he  had 
provoked. 

"  Nigel,  Nigel,  rash,  impetuous  boy,  what  hast  thou  done  ?" 
exclaimed  the  countess,  losing  all  mien  and  accent  of  command 
in  the  terror  with  which  she  clung  round  him,  as  if  to  protect 
him  from  all  ill,  in  the  tone  and  look  of  maternal  tenderness 
with  which  she  addressed  him.  "  Why,  why  must  it  be  my 
ill  fate  to  hurl  down  increase  of  misery  and  danger  on  all  whom 
Hove?" 

"  Speak  not  so,  noble  lady,  in  mercy  do  not !"  he  whispered 
in  reply  ;  "  keep  that  undaunted  spirit  shown  but  now,  I  can 
better  bear  it  than  this  voice  of  anguish.  And  thou,"  he  added, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  boy,  who  still  clung 
to  his  knees,  as  if  fascinated  there  by  speechless  terror,  and 
gazed  alternately  on  him  and  the  countess  with  eyes  glazed 
almost  in  madness,  "  up,  up ;  this  is  no  place  for  thee.  What 
can  they  do  with  me  but  slay — let  them  come  on — better,  far 
better  than  a  scaffold !"  but  the  boy  moved  not,  Nigel  spoke 
in  vain. 

The  fate  he  dared  seemed  indeed  threatening.  Wrought 
well-nigh  to  phrensy  at  this  daring  insult  to  his  sovereign,  in 
whose  acts  of  cruelty  and  oppression  he  could  far  better  sym- 
pathize than  in  his  more  knightly  qualities,  the  Earl  of  Berwick 
loudly  and  fiercely  called  on  his  soldiers  to  advance  and  cut 
down  the  traitor,  to  bring  the  heaviest  fetters  and  bear  him  to 
the  lowest  dungeon.  The  men,  roused  from  their  stupor  of 
amaze,  rushed  on  impetuously  to  obey  him  ;  their  naked  swords 
already  gleamed  round^  Nigel ;  the  Countess  of  Buchan  was 
torn  from  his  side,  her  own  especial  guards  closing  darkly 
around  her ;  but  vainly  did  they  seek  to  unclasp  the  convulsive 
grasp  of  the  boy  from  Nigel,  he  neither  shrieked  nor  spake,  but 
he  remained  in  that  one  posture,  rigid  as  stone. 

"  Fiends  !  monsters  !  would  ye,  dare  ye  touch  a  boy,  a  child 
as  this  !"  shouted  Nigel,  struggling  with  herculean  strength 
to  free  himself  from  the  rude  grasp  of  the  soldiers,  as  he  be- 


THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  275 

held  the  sharp  steel  pointed  at  the  breast  of  the  boy,  to  com- 
pel him  to  unloose  his  hold.  "  Villains,  cowards !  bear  back 
and  let  me  speak  with  him,"  and  nerved  to  madness  by  the 
violence  of  his  emotions,  he  suddenly  wrenched  himself  away, 
the  rapidity  of  the  movement  throwing  one  of  the  men  to  the 
earth,  and  bent  over  the  boy ;  again  they  rushed  forward,  they 
closed  upon  him,  they  tore  away  the  lad  by  force  of  numbers, 
and  flung  him  senseless  on  the  earth ;  they  sought  to  bear 
away  their  prisoner,  but  at  that  moment  Hereford,  who  had 
been  parleying  loudly  and  wrathfully  with  Berwick,  spurred 
his  charger  in  the  very  midst  of  them,  and  compelled  them  to 
bear  back. 

"  Back,  back !"  he  exclaimed,  making  a  path  for  himself  with 
his  drawn  sword  ;  "  how  dare  ye  thrust  yourselves  betwixt  me 
and  my  lawful  prisoner,  captive  of  my  sword  and  power  ?  what 
right  have  ye  to  dare  detain  him  ?  Let  go  yoar  hoU,  none 
but  the  men  whose  prowess  gained  this  gallant  prize  shall 
guard  him  till  my  sovereign's  will  be  known.  Back,  back,  I 
say !" 

"  Traitor  !"  retorted  Berwick,  "  he  is  no  longer  your  prisoner. 
An  insult  offered  to  King  Edward,  in  the  loyal  citadel  of  Ber- 
wick, in  my  very  presence,  his  representative  as  I  stand,  shall 
meet  with  fit  retribution.  He  hath  insulted  his  sovereign  by 
act  and  word,  and  I  attach  him  of  high  treason  and  will  enforce 
my  charge.  Forward,  I  say  !" 

"  And  I  say  back !"  shouted  the  Earl  of  Hereford  ;  "  I  tell 
thee,  proud  earl,  he  is  my  prisoner,  and  mine  alone.  Thou 
mayest  vaunt  thy  loyalty,  thy  representation  of  majesty,  as  thou 
listeth,  mine  hath  been  proved  at  the  good  sword's  point,  and 
Edward  will  deem  me  no  traitor  because  I  protect  a  captive, 
who  hath  surrendered  himself  a  knight  to  a  knight,  rescue  or 
no  rescue,  from  this  unseemly  violence.  I  bandy  no  more 
words  with  such"  as  thee ;  back !  the  first  man  that  dares  lay 
hold  on  him  I  chastise  with  my  sword." 

"  Thou  shalt  repent  this !"  muttered  Berwick,  with  a  sup- 
pressed yet  terrible  oath,  but  he  dared  proceed  no  further. 

A  signal  from  their  leader  brought  up  all  Hereford's  men, 
who,  in  compact  order  and  perfect  silence,  surrounded  their 
prisoner.  Sternly  the  earl  called  for  a  pair  of  handcuffs,  and 
with  his  own  hands  fastened  them  on  his  captive.  "  It  grieves 
me,"  he  said,  "  to  see  a  brave  man  thus  manacled,  but  thine 


276  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

own  mad  act  hath  brought  it  on  thyself.  And  now,  my  Lord 
of  Berwick,  an  it  please  thee  to  proceed,  we  demand  admission 
to  thy  citadel  in  King  Edward's  name.  Bring  up  the  other 
prisoners." 

Concealing  his  wrath  with  difficulty,  the  Earl  of  Berwick 
and  his  attendants  dashed  forward  over  the  drawbridge  into 
the  castle  at  full  speed,  closing  the  gates  and  lowering  the 
portcullis  after  them.  After  a  brief  space,  the  portcullis  was 
again  raised,  the  gates  flung  wide  apart,  and  the  men-at-arms 
were  discerned  lining  either  side,  in  all  due  form  and  homage 
to  the  officers  of  their  sovereign.  During  the  wrathful  words 
passing  between  the  two  earls,  the  attention  of  the  crowd  had 
been  given  alternately  to  them  and  to  the  Countess  of  Buchan, 
who  had  utterly  forgotten  her  own  precarious  situation  in  anx- 
iety for  Nigel,  and  in  pity  for  the  unfortunate  child,  who  had 
been  hurled  by  the  soldiers  close  to  the  spot  where  she  stood. 

"  Do  not  leave  him  there,  he  will  be  trampled  on,"  she  said, 
imploringly,  to  the  officers  beside  her.  "  He  can  do  no  harm, 
poor  child,  Scotch  though  he  be.  A  little  water,  only  bring 
me  a  little  water,  and  he  will  speedily  recover." 

All  she  desired  was  done,  the  boy  was  tenderly  raised  and 
brought  within  the  circle  of  her  guards,  and  laid  on  the  ground 
at  her  feet.  She  knelt  down  beside  him,  chafed  his  cold  hands 
within  her  own,  and  moistened  his  lips  and  brow  with  water. 
After  a  while  his  scattered  senses  returned,  he  started  up  in  a 
sitting  posture,  and  gazed  in  wild  inquiry  around  him,  uttering 
a  few  inarticulate  words,  and  then  saying  aloud,  "  Sir  Nigel, 
my  lord,  my — my — master,  where  is  he  ?  oh  !  let  me  go  to 
him ;  why  am  I  here  ?" 

"  Thou  shalt  go  to  him,  poor  boy,  as  soon  as  thy  strength 
returns  ;  an  they  have  let  thee  follow  him  from  Scotland,  surely 
they  will  not  part  ye  now,"  said  the  countess  soothingly,  and 
her  voice  seemed  to  rouse  the  lad  into  more  consciousness. 
He  gazed  long  in  her  face,  with  an  expression  which  at  that 
time  she  could  not  define,  but  which  startled  and  affected  her, 
and  she  put  her  arm  round  him  and  kissed  his  brow.  A  con- 
vulsive almost  agonized  sob  broke  from  the  boy's  breast,  and 
caused  his  slight  frame  to  shake  as  with  an  ague,  then  sud- 
denly he  knelt  before  her,  and,  in  accents  barely  articulate, 
murmured — 

"  Bless  me,  oh  bless  me !"  while  another  word  seemed  strug- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  277 

gling  for  utterance,  but  checked  with  an  effort  which  caused  it 
to  die  on  his  lips  in  indistinct  murmurs. 

"  Bless  thee,  poor  child !  from  my  very  heart  I  do,  if  the 
blessing  of  one  sorrowing  and  afflicted  as  myself  can  in  aught 
avail  thee.  For  thy  faithfulness  to  thy  master,  I  bless  thee, 
for  it  speaketh  well  for  thee,  and  that  face  would  bid  me  love 
and  bless  thee  for  thyself,  I  know  not  wherefore.  Good  angels 
keep  and  bless  thee,  gentle  boy  !  thou  hast  Isabella's  prayers, 
and  may  they  give  thee  peace." 

"  Pray  for  me,  aye,  pray  for  me,"  repeated  the  boy,  in  the  same 
murmured  tones.  He  clasped  her  hands  in  both  his,  he  pressed 
them  again  and  again  to  his  lips,  repeated  sobs  burst  from  his 
laboring  breast,  and  then  he  sprung  up,  darted  away,  and  stood 
at  Sir  Nigel's  side,  just  as  the  Earl  of  Hereford  had  commanded 
his  men  to  wheel  a  little  to  the  right,  to  permit  the  Countess  of 
Buchan,  her  guards  and  officers,  free  passage  over  the  draw- 
bridge, and  first  entrance  within  the  fortress. 

The  brow  of  this  noble  son  of  chivalry  darkened  as,  sitting 
motionless  on  his  tall  steed,  his  gaze  rested  on  the  noble  woman 
whom  it  had  originally  been  his  painful  charge  to  deliver  over 
to  his  sovereign.  He  had  not  dreamed  of  a  vengeance  such  as 
this.  He  could  not  have  believed  a  change  so  dark  as  this  had 
fallen  on  the  character  of  a  sovereign  whom  he  still  loved,  still 
sought  to  admire  and  revere,  and  his  spirit  sunk  'neath  the 
sorrow  this  conviction  caused.  Almost  involuntarily,  as  the 
procession  slowly  proceeded,  and  the  countess  passed  within 
three  paces  of  his  horse's  head,  he  bent  his  lordly  brow  in  silent 
homage  ;  she  saw  it  and  returned  it,  more  effected  by  the  un- 
feigned commiseration  on  that  warrior's  face,  than  at  aught 
which  had  occurred  to  shame  and  humble  her  that  morning. 

A  brief  pause  took  place  in  the  movements  of  the  officers  and 
their  prisoners,  when  they  reached  the  great  hall  of  the  castle. 
For  a  brief  minute  Lady  Seaton  and  the  Countess  of  Buchan 
had  met,  had  clasped  hands,  in  sad,  yet  eager  greeting.  "  My 
child,  mine  Agnes  ?"  had  been  by  the  latter  hurriedly  whis- 
pered, and  the  answer,  "  Safe,  I  trust,  safe,"  just  permitted  to 
reach  her  ear,  when  roughly  and  fiercely  the  Earl  of  Berwick 
summoned  the  Lady  of  Buchan  to  proceed  to  the  chamber  ap- 
pointed for  her  use.  Those  simple  words  had,  however,  re- 
moved a  load  of  anxiety  from  her  mind,  for  they  appeared  to 
confirm  what  she  had  sometimes  permitted  herself  to  hope, 


278  THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

that  Agnes  had  shared  King  Robert's  exile,  under  the  care  of 
Lady  Campbell ;  prevailed  on  to  do  so,  perchance,  by  the  en- 
treaties of  Nigel,  who  in  all  probability  had  deemed  that  course, 
though  one  of  hardship,  less  perilous  than  remaining  with  him. 
She  hoped  indeed  against  her  better  judgment,  for  though  she 
knew  not  the  depth,  the  might  of  her  daughter's  feelings,  she 
knew  it  must  have  been  a  terrible  trial  so  to  part,  and  she  ab- 
solutely shuddered  when  she  thought  of  the  whelming  blow  it 
would  be  to  that  young  heart  when  the  fate  of  her  betrothed 
was  ascertained. 

Lady  Seaton  had  spoken  as  she  believed.  No  communication 
had  been  permitted  between  the  prisoners  on  their  way  to 
England ;  indeed,  from  Sir  Christopher's  wounded  and  ex- 
hausted state,  he  had  travelled  more  leisurely  in  a  litter,  always 
in  the  rear  of  the  earl's  detachment,  and  occupied  by  her  close 
attendance  upon  him,  his  wife  had  scarcely  been  aware  of  the 
young  page  ever  in  attendance  on  her  brother,  or  deemed  him, 
if  she  did  observe  him,  a  retainer  of  Hereford's  own.  There 
was  so  much  of  fearful  peril  and  misery  hovering  over  her  in 
her  husband's  fate,  that  it  was  not  much  wonder  her  thoughts 
lingered  there  more  than  on  Agnes,  and  that  she  was  contented 
to  believe  as  she  had  spoken,  that  she  at  least  was  safe. 

Night  fell  on  the  town  of  Berwick.  Silence  and  darkness 
had  come  on  her  brooding  wings  ;  the  varied  excitement  of  the 
day  was  now  but  a  matter  of  wondering  commune  round  the 
many  blazing  hearths,  where  the  busy  crowds  of  the  morning 
had  now  gathered.  Night  came,  with  her  closing  pall,  her 
softened  memories,  her  sleeping  visions,  and  sad  waking  dreams. 
She  had  come,  alike  to  the  mourned  and  mourner,  the  con- 
queror and  his  captive,  the  happy  and  the  wretched.  She  had 
found  the  Earl  of  Berwick  pacing  up  and  down  his  stately 
chamber,  his  curtained  couch  unsought,  devising  schemes  to 
lower  the  haughty  pride  of  the  gallant  warrior  whom  he  yet 
feared.  She  had  looked  softly  within  the  room  where  that 
warrior  lay,  and  found  him,  too,  sleepless,  but  not  from  the 
same  dark  dreams.  He  grieved  for  his  sovereign,  for  the  fate 
of  one  noble  spirit  shrined  in  a  woman's  form,  and  restless  and 
fevered,  turned  again  and  again  within  his  mind  how  he  might 
save  from  a  yet  darker  doom  the  gallant  youth  his  arms  had 
conquered.  And  not  alone  on  them  did  night  look  down.  She 
sent  her  sweet,  reviving  influence,  on  the  rays  of  a  bright  liquid 


THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  279 

star,  through  the  narrow  casement  which  gave  light  to  the  rude 
unfurnished  chamber  where  Sir  Nigel  Bruce  and  his  attendant 
lay.  They  had  not  torn  that  poor  faithful  child  from  his  side. 
Hereford's  last  commands  had  been  that  they  should  not  part 
them,  and  there  they  now  lay ;  and  sleep,  balmy  sleep  had  for 
them  descended  on  the  wings  of  night,  hovering  over  that  hum- 
ble pallet  of  straw,  when  from  the  curtained  couch  of  power, 
the  downy  bed  of  luxury,  she  fled.  There  they  lay ;  but  it 
was  the  boy  who  lay  on  the  pallet  of  straw,  his  head  pillowed 
by  the  arm  of  the  knight,  who  sat  on  a  wooden  settle  at  his 
side.  He  had  watched  for  a  brief  space  those  troubled  slum- 
bers, but  as  they  grew  calmer  and  calmer,  he  had  pressed  one 
light  kiss  on  the  soft  yielding  cheek,  and  then  leant  his  head 
on  his  breast,  and  he  too  slept— even  in  sleep  tending  one  be- 
loved. 

And  in  the  dark,  close  sleeping- chamber  within  the  prison 
cage  of  the  noble  Countess  of  Buchan,  night  too  looked  pity- 
ingly. Sleep  indeed  was  not  there  ;  it  had  come  and  gone, 
for  in  a  troubled  slumber  a  dream  had  come  of  Agnes,  and  she 
had  woke  to  think  upon  her  child,  and  pray  for  her ;  and  as 
she  prayed,  she  thought  of  her  promise  to  the  poor  boy  who 
had  so  strangely  moved  her.  She  could  not  trace  how  one 
thought  had  sprung  from  the  other,  nor  why  in  the  darkness 
his  features  so  suddenly  flashed  before  her ;  but  so  it  was.  His 
face  seemed  to  gleam  upon  her  with  the  same  strange,  indefina- 
ble expression  which,  even  at  the  time,  had  startled  her  ;  and 
then  a  sudden  flash  appeared  to  illumine  that  darkness  of  be- 
wilderment. She  started  up  from  her  reclining  posture  ;  she 
pressed  both  hands  on  her  throbbing  eyeballs  ;  a  wild,  sickening 
yearning  took  possession  of  her  whole  soul ;  and  then  she  felt, 
in  its  full  bitterness,  she  was  a  chained  and  guarded  prisoner ; 
and  the  deep  anguish  of  her  spirit  found  vent  in  the  convulsive 
cry — 

"  Fool,  fool  that  I  was — my  child  !  my  child  !" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

LEAVING  the  goodly  town  of  Berwick  and  its  busy  citizens, 
its  castle  and  its  prisoners,  for  a  brief  space,  we  must  now  trans- 


280  THE    DAYS    OF   BRUCE. 

port  our  readers  to  a  pleasant  chamber  overlooking  the  Eden, 
in  the  castle  of  Carlisle,  now  a  royal  residence ;  a  fact  which, 
from  its  numerous  noble  inmates,  its  concourse  of  pages, 
esquires,  guards,  and  various  other  retainers  of  a  royal  estab- 
lishment, the  constant  ingress  and  egress  of  richly-attired 
courtiers,  the  somewhat  bustling,  yet  deferential  aspect  of  the 
scene,  a  very  cursory  glance  would  have  been  all-sufficient  to 
prove. 

It  had  been  with  a  full  determination  to  set  all  obstacles, 
even  disease  itself,  at  defiance,  King  Edward,  some  months  be- 
before,  had  quitted  Winchester,  and  directed  his  march  towards 
the  North,  vowing  vengeance  on  the  rebellious  and  disaffected 
Scots,  and  swearing  death  alone  should  prevent  the  complete 
and  terrible  extermination  of  the  traitors.  He  had  proceeded 
in  this  spirit  to  Carlisle,  disregarding  the  threatening  violence 
of  disease,  so  sustained  by  the  spirit  of  disappointed  ambition 
within  as  scarcely  to  be  conscious  of  an  almost  prostrating  in- 
crease of  weakness  and  exhaustion.  He  had  determined  to 
make  a  halt  of  some  weeks  at  Carlisle,  to  wait  the  effect  of  the 
large  armies  he  had  sent  forward  to  overrun  Scotland,  and  to 
receive  intelligence  of  the  measures  they  had  already  taken. 
Here,  then,  disease,  as  if  enraged  that  he  should  have  borne  up 
so  long,  that  his  spirit  had  mastered  even  her,  convened  the 
whole  powers  of  suffering,  and  compelled  him  not  alone  to 
acknowledge,  but  to  writhe  beneath  her  sway.  His  whole 
frame  was  shaken ;  intolerable  pains  took  possession  of  him, 
and  though  the  virulence  of  the  complaint  was  at  length  so 
far  abated  as  to  permit  him  a  short  continuance  of  life,  he 
could  never  sit  his  horse  again,  or  even  hope  to  carry  on  in  his 
own  person  his  plans  for  the  total  reduction  of  Scotland.  But 
as  his  frame  weakened,  as  he  became  the  victim  of  almost  con- 
tinual pain,  all  the  darker  and  fiercer  passions  of  his  nature 
gained  yet  more  fearful  ascendency.  The  change  had  been 
some  time  gathering,  but  within  the  last  twelve  months  its 
effects  were  such,  that  his  noblest,  most  devoted  knights,  blind 
as  their  affection  for  his  person  rendered  them,  could  scarce 
recognize  in  the  bloodthirsty,  ambitious  tyrant  they  now  beheld 
their  gallant,  generous,  humane,  and  most  chivalric  sovereign, 
who  had  won  golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men  ;  who  had  performed  the  duties  of  a  son  and  husband  so 
as  to  fix  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  on  him  in  admiration  ;  who  had 


THE   BAYS   OF   BKUCE.  'A  )l 

swayed  the  sceptre  of  his  mighty  kingdom  with  sur.h  a  power- 
ful and  fearless  hand,  it  had  been  long  since  England  had  ac- 
quired such  weight  in  the  scale  of  kingdoms.  Wise,  moderate, 
merciful  even  in  strict  justice  as  he  had  been,  could  it  be  that 
ambition  had  wrought  such  change ;  that  disease  had  banished 
overy  feeling  from  his  breast,  save  this  one  dark,  fiend-like  pas- 
sion, for  the  furtherance  of  which,  or  in  revenge  of  its  dis- 
appointment, noble  blood  flowed  like  water — the  brave,  the 
good,  the  young,  the  old,  the  noble  and  his  follower,  alike  fell 
Jefore  the  axe  or  the  cord  of  the  executioner  ?  Could  it  indeed 
\£  that  Edward,  once  such  a  perfect,  glorious  scion  of  chivalry, 
had  now  shut  up  his  heart  against  its  every  whisper,  lest  it 
should  interfere  with  his  brooding  visions  of  revenge ;  forgot 
each  feeling,  lest  he  should  involuntarily  sympathize  with  the 
noble  and  knightly  spirit  of  the  patriots  of  Scotland,  whom  he 
had  sworn  to  crush  ?  Alas !  it  was  even  so ;  ruthless  and 
tyrannical,  the  nobles  he  had  once  favored,  once  loved,  now  be- 
came odious  to  him,  for  their  presence  made  him  painfully  con- 
scious of  the  change  within  himself ;  and  he  now  associated 
but  with  spirits  dark,  fierce,  cruel  as  his  own — men  he  would 
once  have  shunned,  have  banished  from  his  court,  as  utterly 
unworthy  of  his  favor. 

It  was,  then,  in  a  royally-furnished  chamber,  pleasantly 
overlooking  the  river  Eden  and  the  adjoining  country,  that 
about  a  week  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter, King  Edward  reclined.  His  couch  was  softly  and  luxu- 
riously cushioned,  and  not  a  little  art  had  been  expended 
in  the  endeavor  to  lighten  his  sufferings,  and  enable  him,  to  rest 
at  ease.  The  repeated  contraction  of  his  countenance,  how- 
ever, betrayed  how  impotent  was  even  luxury  when,  brought 
in  contact  with  disease.  The  richly-furred  and  wadded  crim- 
son velvet  robe  could  not  conceal  the  attenuation  of  his  once 
peculiarly  fine  and  noble  form  ;  his  great  length  of  limb,  which 
had  gained  him,  and  handed  down  to  posterity,  the  inelegant 
surname  of  Longshanks,  rendered  his  appearance  yet  more 
gaunt  and  meagre ;  while  his  features,  which  once,  from  the 
benignity  and  nobleness  of  his  character,  had  been  eminently 
handsome,  now  pale,  thin,  and  pointed,  seemed  to  express  but 
the  one  passion  of  his  soul — its  gratification  of  revenge.  His 
expansive  brow  was  now  contracted  and  stern,  rendered  more 
so  perhaps  by  the  lack  of  hair  about  the  temples  ;  he  wore  a 


282  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

black  velvet  cap,  circled  coronet-wise  with  large  diamonds, 
from  which  a  white  feather  drooped  to  his  shoulder.  There 
was  a  slight,  scarcely  visible,  sneer  resting  on  his  features  that 
morning,  called  forth  perhaps  by  his  internal  scorn  of  the  noble 
with  whom  he  had  deigned  a  secret  conference  ;  but  the  Earl 
of  Buchan  had  done  him  good  service,  had  ably  forwarded 
his  revenge,  and  he  would  not  therefore  listen  to  that  still  voice 
of  scorn. 

"  Soli !  she  is  secure,  and  your  desires  on  that  head  accom- 
plished, sir  earl,"  he  said,  in  continuance  of  some  subject  they 
had  been  discussing.  "  Thou  hast  done  us  good  service,  and 
by  mine  honor,  it  would  seem  we  have  done  your  lordship  the 
same." 

"  Aye,"  muttered  the  earl,  whose  dark  features  had  not 
grown  a  whit  more  amiable  since  we  last  beheld  him ;  "  aye, 
we  are  both  avenged." 

"  How,  sir  !  darest  thou  place  thyself  on  a  par  with  me  ?" 
angrily  retorted  Edward ;  "  thinkest  thou  the  sovereign  of  Eng- 
land can  have  aught  in  common  with  such  as  thee  ?  Isabella 
of  Buchan,  or  of  Fife,  an  thou  likest  that  better,  is  debased, 
imprisoned,  because  she  hath  dared  insult  our  person,  defy  our 
authority,  to  act  treasonably  and  mischievously,  and  sow  dis- 
sension and  rebellion  amid  our  Scottish  subjects — for  this  she 
is  chastised  ;  an  it  gratify  your  matrimonial  revenge,  I  am  glad 
on't ;  but  Edward  of  England  brooks  no  equality  with  Comyn 
of  Buchan,  though  it  be  but  equality  in  revenge." 

Buchan  bent  his  kee,  and  humbly  apologized. 

"  Well,  well,  let  it  be  ;  thou  hast  served  us  too  faithfully  to 
be  quarrelled  with,  for  perchance  unintentional  irreverence. 
The  imposition  of  her  child's  murder,  when  he  lives  and  is  well, 
is  the  coinage  of  thine  own  brain,  sir  earl,  and  thou  must  rec- 
oncile it  to  thine  own  conscience.  We  hold  ourselves  exempt 
from  all  such  peculiar  mercy,  for  we  scarce  see  its  wisdom." 
There  was  a  slight  bitterness  in  Edward's  tone. 

"  Wisdom,  my  sovereign  liege,  deemest  thou  there  is  no 
wisdom  in  revenge  ?"  and  the  brow  of  the  earl  grew  dark  with 
passion,  as  he  spoke.  "  Have  I  naught  to  punish,  naught  to 
avenge  in  this  foul  traitress — naught,  that  her  black  treachery 
has  extended  to  my  son,  my  heir,  even  to  his  tender  years  ? 
I  would  not  have  her  death ;  no,  let  her  live  and  feed  on  the 
belief  that  her  example,  her  counsels  have  killed  her  own 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  283 

child  ;  that  had  it  not  been  for  her,  he  might  have  lived,  been 
prosperous,  aye,  and  happy  now.  Is  there  no  wisdom  in  such 
revenge  ?  and  if  there  be  none,  save  that  which  my  own  heart 
feels,  I  could  give  your  grace  another  and  a  better  reason  for 
this  proceeding." 

"  Speak  it,  in  St.  George's  name,"  replied  the  king  ;  "  of  a 
truth  thou  art  of  most  clear  conception  in  all  schemes  of  ven- 
geance. I  might  have  thought  long  enough,  ere  I  could  have 
lighted  on  such  as  this.  What  more  ?" 

"  Simply,  your  grace,  that  by  encouraging  a  little  while  the 
report  of  his  death,  his  friends  in  Scotland  will  forget  that  he 
ever  existed,  and  make  no  effort  for  his  rescue ;  which  belief, 
wild  and  unfounded  as  it  is,  I  imagine  supports  him  in  his 
strenuous  determination  to  live  and  die  a  traitor  to  your  high- 
ness. I  have  no  hatred  to  the  boy ;  nay,  an  he  would  let  me, 
could  love  and  be  proud  of  him,  now  his  mother  cannot  cross 
my  path,  and  would  gladly  see  him  devoted,  as  myself,  to  the 
interests  of  your  grace.  Nor  do  I  despair  of  this  ;  he  is  very 
young,  and  his  character  cannot  be  entirely  formed.  He  will 
tire  in  time  of  dark  and  solitary  confinement,  and  gladly  accept 
any  conditions  I  may  offer." 

"  Gives  he  any  proof  as  yet  of  this  yielding  mood  ?" 

"  By  mine  honor,  no,  your  highness  ;  he  is  firm  and  stead- 
fast as  the  ocean  rock." 

"  Then  wherefore  thinkest  thou  he  will  change  in  time  ?" 

"  Because  as  yet,  my  gracious  liege,  the  foul,  treacherous 
principles  of  his  mother  have  not  ceased  to  work.  An  entire 
cessation  of  intercourse  between  them  will  show  him  his  mis- 
take at  last,  and  this  could  never  be,  did  she  know  he  lived. 
Imprisoned,  guarded  as  she  is,  she  would  yet  find  some  means 
of  communication  with  him,  and  all  my  efforts  would  be  of  no 
avail.  Let  a  year  roll  by,  and  I  will  stake  my  right  hand  that 
Alan  of  Buchan  becomes  as  firm  a  supporter  and  follower  of 
King  Edward  as  ever  his  father  was.  Is  the  boy  more  than 
mortal,  and  does  your  grace  think  life,  liberty,  riches,  honors, 
will  not  weigh  against  perpetual  imprisonment  and  daily  thoughts 
of  death  ?" 

So  spoke  the  Earl  of  Buchan,  judging,  as  most  men,  others 
by  himself,  utterly  unable  to  comprehend  the  high,  glorious, 
self-devoted,  patriotic  spirit  of  his  noble  son.  He  persevered 
in  his  course  of  fiend-like  cruelty,  excusing  it  to  his  own  con- 


284  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

science,  if  he  had  any,  by  the  belief  it  would  end  but  in  his 
son's  good — an  end,  indeed,  he  seldom  thought  of  attaining  ;  but 
there  was  something  in  the  idea  of  a  son,  an  heir,  and  one  so 
prepossessing  in  appearance  as  Alan  of  Buchan,  that  touched 
his  pride,  the  only  point  on  which  his  flinty  heart  was  vulner- 
able. 

"  So  thou  thinkest,  sir  earl  ?"  resumed  the  king,  who  per- 
haps in  his  own  secret  soul  did  not  entirely  think  with  him. 
"  Meanwhile  the  stripling  may  laugh  thy  parental  care  to  scorn, 
by  escaping  from  iron  chains  and  stone  walls,  and  seeking  out 
the  arch  rebel  Bruce,  make  up  at  the  sword's  point  for  lost  time. 
Beware,  sir  earl,  an  he  be  taken  again  thus  in  arms  against  us, 
even  thy  loyal  services  will  not  save  his  head  !" 

"  I  should  not  even  ask  your  grace's  clemency,"  replied  the 
earl,  his  features  assuming  a  fearful  expression  as  he  spoke. 
"  An  he  thus  turned  traitor  again  to  his  father's  house,  spurn- 
ing mine  and  your  grace's  favor,  to  join  the  base  murderer  of 
his  kinsman,  he  shall  be  no  more  to  me  than  others,  whose 
treason  hath  cost  their  heads ;  but  I  have  no  fear  of  this.  He 
cannot  escape,  guarded  as  he  is,  by  alike  the  most  ruthless  and 
the  most  faithful  of  my  followers ;  and  while  there,  if  all  else 
fail,  I  will  publish  that  he  lives,  but  so  poison  the  ears  of  his 
rebel  Scottish  friends  against  him,  he  will  not,  dare  not  join 
them,  and  in  his  own  despite,  will  be  compelled  to  act  as  be- 
fitting his  father's  son.  Trust  me,  my  liege.  To  thy  royal 
clemency  I  owe  his  life ;  be  it  my  duty,  then,  to  instil  into  him 
other  principles  than  those  which  actuated  him  before." 

"  But  your  own  character,  my  lord,  meanwhile,  care  ye 
naught  for  the  stain  supposed  to  rest  upon  it?  Thy  plans 
sound  wise,  and  we  thank  thee  for  thy  loyalty  ;  but  we  would 
not  ye  burdened  your  name  with  a  deed  not  its  own,  an  ye 
cared  for  the  world's  applause." 

"  Not  a  whit,  not  a  whit,  your  highness  ;  countenanced  by 
your  grace's  favor,  absolved  in  your  opinion  from  the  barbarity 
others  charge  me  with,  I  care  not  for  them.  I  have  been  too 
long  mine  own  conscience-keeper  to  heed  the  whispers  of  the 
world,"  he  added,  his  dark  brows  knitting  closer  as  he  spoke. 

Edward  smiled  grimly.  "  Be  it  so,  then,"  he  said  ;  "  my 
Lord  of  Buchan,  we  understand  each  other.  An  that  boy 
escapes  and  rejoins  the  traitors,  and  is  taken,  his  head  answers 
for  it.  An  ye  succeed  in  making  him  loyal  as  yourself,  as  eager 


THE   DAYS  OF   BRUCE.  285 

a  pursuer  of  the  murderous  traitor,  Bruce,  we  will  give  thee 
the  palm  for  policy  and  wisdom  in  our  court,  ourself  not  ex- 
cepted.  And  now  another  question  ;  it  was  reported  Isabella 
of  Buchan  joined  the  rebel's  court  with  her  two  children.  Who 
and  where  is  the  second  ?  we  have  heard  but  of  one." 

"  A  puny,  spiritless  wench,  as  I  have  heard,  my  liege  ;  one 
little  likely  to  affect  your  highness,  and  not  worth  the  seeking." 

"  Nay,  an  she  hath  her  mother's  influence,  we  differ  from 
thee,  sir  earl,  and  would  rather  see  her  within  the  walls  of 
our  court  than  in  the  traitor's  train.  I  remember  not  her  name 
amid  those  taken  with  the  Bruce's  wife.  Hast  inquired  aught 
concerning  her  ?" 

"  Not  I,  your  grace,"  carelessly  replied  the  earl ;  "  of  a 
truth,  I  had  weightier  thoughts  than  the  detention  or  interest 
of  a  simple  wench,  who,  if  her  mother  has  taught  to  forget  me 
as  her  father,  is  not  worth  my  remembering  as  a  child." 

"  I  give  you  joy  of  your  most  fatherly  indifference,  sir  earl," 
answered  the  king,  with  an  ill-suppressed  sneer.  "  It  would 
concern  you  little  if  she  takes  unto  herself  a  husband  midst 
your  foes ;  the  rebel  Robert  hath  goodly  brothers,  and  the 
feud  between  thy  house  and  theirs  may  but  impart  a  double 
enjoyment  to  the  union." 

The  earl  started,  as  if  an  adder  had  stung  him.  "  She  dare 
not  do  this  thing,"  he  said,  fiercely  ;  "  she  will  not — she  dare 
not.  A  thousand  curses  light  upon  her  head  even  if  she  dreams 
it!" 

"  Nay,  waste  not  thy  breath  in  curses,  good  my  lord,  but  up 
an  prevent  the  very  possibility  of  such  a  thing,  an  it  move  thee 
so  deeply.  I  say  not  it  is,  but  some  such  floating  rumor  has 
reached  my  ears,  I  can  scarce  trace  how,  save  through  the 
medium  of  our  numerous  prisoners." 

"  But  how  obtain  information — where  seek  her  ?  I  pray 
you  pardon  me,  your  grace,  but  there  are  a  thousand  furies  in 
the  thought !"  and  scarcely  could  the  consciousness  of  the  royal 
presence  restrain  the  rage  which  gathered  on  the  swarthy  fea- 
tures of  the  earl  from  finding  vent  in  words. 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  lord,  let  not  your  marvellous  wisdom  and 
sage  indifference  be  so  speedily  at  fault.  An  she  be  not  in 
Margaret  Bruce's  train,  that  goodly  dame  may  give  thee  some 
information.  Seek  her,  and  may  be  thou  wilt  learn  more  of 
this  wench  than  thou  hast  since  her  birth.  In  pity  to  this  sud- 


286  TUB   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

den  interest,  we  grant  thee  permission  to  visit  these  partners  of 
treason  in  their  respective  convents,  and  learn  what  thou  canst ; 
an  she  be  within  thy  reach,  be  advised,  and  find  her  a  husband 
thyself,  the  best  and  most  speedy  means  of  eradicating  her 
mother's  counsels." 

Buchan's  reply  was  arrested  on  his  lips  by  the  entrance  of 
the  royal  chamberlain,  announcing  that  the  Earl  of  Berwick 
had  arrived  in  all  haste  from  Berwick,  and  earnestly  besought 
a  few  minutes'  audience  with  his  sovereign. 

"  Berwick !"  repeated  Edward,  half  raising  himself  in  his 
surprise  from  his  reclining  posture.  "  Berwick  !  what  the  foul 
fiend  brings  him  from  his  post  at  such  a  time  ?  Bid  him  enter ; 
haste,  I  charge  thee." 

His  impatient  command  was  speedily  obeyed.  The  Earl  of 
Berwick  was  close  on  the  heels  of  the  chamberlain,  and  now 
appeared,  his  lowly  obeisance  not  concealing  from  the  quick 
eye  of  his  master  that  wrath,  black  as  a  thunder-cloud,  was 
resting  on  his  brow. 

"  How  now,"  said  the  king,  "  what  means  this  unseemly 
gear,  sir  earl  ?  thou  must  have  neither  rested  spur  nor  slack- 
ened rein,  methinks,  an  thy  garb  tell  truth ;  and  wherefore 
seekest  thou  our  presence  in  such  fiery  haste  ?  Wouldst  thou 
be  private  ?  My  Lord  of  Buchan,  thou  hadst  best  follow  our 
counsel  ere  thy  interest  cools." 

"  Nay,  your  grace,  bid  not  yon  noble  earl  depart  to  grant 
me  hearing ;  I  would  speak  before  him,  aye,  and  the  whole 
court,  were  it  needed.  Tis  but  to  lay  the  sword  and  mantle, 
with  which  your  highness  invested  me  as  governor  of  the  cita- 
del of  Berwick,  at  your  grace's  feet,  and  beseech  you  to  accept 
my  resignation  of  the  same."  With  well-affected  humility  the 
Earl  of  Berwick  unclasped  his  jewelled  mantle,  and  kneeling 
down,  laid  it  with  his  sheathed  sword  at  King  Edward's  feet, 
remaining  on  his  knee. 

"  Art  craven,  fool,  or  traitor  ?"  demanded  Edward,  when  his 
astonishment  permitted  words.  "  What  means  this  ?  Speak 
out,  and  instantly  ;  we  are  not  wont  to  be  thus  trifled  with. 
My  Lord  of  Berwick,  wherefore  dost  thou  do  this  ?" 

"  Not  because  I  am  a  craven,  good  my  liege,"  replied  the 
nobleman,  still  on  his  knee,  "  for  had  I  been  so,  King  Edward's 
penetration  would  have  discovered  it  ere  he  intrusted  me  with 
so  great  a  charge— nor  because  I  am  a  witless  fool,  unconscious 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  287 

of  the  high  honor  I  thus  tamely  resign — and  not  because  I  am 
a  traitor,  gracious  sovereign,  for  'tis  from  insult  and  interruption 
in  the  arrest  of  a  blasphemous  traitor  I  am  here." 

"  Insult — interruption  !"  fiercely  exclaimed  the  king,  starting 
up.  "  Who  has  dared — who  loves  his  life  so  little  as  to  do 
this  ?  But  speak  on,  speak  on,  we  listen." 

"Pardon  me,  your  highness,  I  came  to  tender  my  resigna- 
tion, not  an  accusation,"  resumed  the  wily  earl,  cautiously  lash- 
ing his  sovereign  into  fury,  aware  that  it  was  much  easier  to 
gain  what  he  wished  in  such  moods  than  as  he  found  him  now. 
"  I  came  but  to  beseech  your  highness  to  resume  that  which 
your  own  royal  hands  had  given  me.  My  authority  trampled 
upon,  my  loyalty  insulted,  my  zeal  in  your  grace's  service  de- 
rided, my  very  men  compelled,  perforce  of  arms,  to  disobey 
me,  and  this  by  one  high  in  your  grace's  estimation,  nay,  con- 
nected with  your  royal  self.  Surely,  my  gracious  liege,  I  do 
but  right  in  resigning  the  high  honor  your  highness  bestowed. 
I  can  have  little  merit  to  retain  it,  and  such  things  be." 

"  But  they  shall  not  be,  sir.  As  there  is  a  God  above  us, 
they  shall  not  be !"  exclaimed  the  king,  in  towering  wrath,  and 
striking  his  hand  on  a  small  table  of  crystal  near  him  with  such 
violence  as  to  shiver  it  to  pieces.  "  By  heaven  and  hell !  they 
shall  repent  this,  be  it  mine  own  son  who  hath  been  thus  inso- 
lent. Speak  out,  I  tell  thee,  as  thou  lovest  thy  life,  speak  out ; 
drive  me  not  mad  by  this  cautiously- worded  tale.  Who  hath 
dared  trample  on  authority  mine  own  hand  and  seal  hath  giv- 
en— who  is  the  traitor  ?  Speak  out,  I  charge  thee  !"  and 
strengthened  by  hfs  own  passion,  the  king  sate  upright  on  his 
couch,  clenching  his  hand  till  the  blood  sprung,  and  fixing  his 
dark,  fiery  eyes  on  the  earl.  It  was  the  mood  he  had  tried 
for,  and  now  artfully  and  speciously,  with  many  additions,  he 
narrated  all  that  had  passed  the  preceding  day  in  the  castle- 
yard  of  Berwick.  Fiercer  and  fiercer  waxed  the  wrath  of  the 
king. 

"  Fling  him  in  the  lowest  dungeon,  load  him  with  the  heavi- 
est fetters  hands  can  forge  !"  were  the  words  first  distinguished, 
when  passion  permitted  articulation.  "  The  villain,  the  black- 
faced  traitor !  it  is  not  enough  he  hath  dared  raise  arms  against 
me,  but  he  must  beard  me  to  the  very  teeth,  defy  me  in  my 
very  palace,  throw  scorn  upon  me,  maltreat  an  officer  of  mine 
own  person  !  Is  there  no  punishment  but  death  for  this  foul 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE 

insolence  !  As  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  he  shall  feel  my  ven- 
geance ere  he  reach  the  scaffold — feel  it,  aye,  till  death  be  but 
too  welcome  !"  He  sunk  back,  exhausted  by  his  own  violence  ; 
but  not  a  minute  passed  ere  again  he  burst  forth.  "  And  Here- 
ford, the  traitor  Hereford,  he  dared  defend  him !  dared  assault 
thee  in  the  pursuance  of  thy  duty,  the  audacious  insolent ! 
Doth  he  think,  forsooth,  his  work  in  Scotland  will  exempt  him 
from  the  punishment  of  insolence,  of  treason  ?  as  an  aider  and 
abettor  of  treachery  he  shares  its  guilt,  and  shall  know  whom 
he  hath  insulted.  Back  to  thy  citadel,  my  Lord  of  Berwick, 
see  to  the  strict  incarceration  of  this  foul  branch  of  treachery, 
aye,  and  look  well  about  ye,  lest  any  seditious  citizen  or  soldier 
hath,  by  look  or  word,  given  aught  of  encouragement,  or  failed 
in  due  respect  to  our  proclamation.  An  Hereford  abet  the 
traitor,  others  may  be  but  too  willing  to  do  the  like.  By 
heaven,  they  shall  share  his  fate  !  Bid  Hereford  hither  on  the 
instant,  say  naught  of  having  been  beforehand  with  him  ;  I 
would  list  the  insplent's  own  tale.  Rest  thee  a  brief  while,  my 
lord,  and  our  great  seal  shall  insure  thee  prompt  obedience. 
Bid  Sir  Edmund  Stanley  attend  us,  my  Lord  of  Buchan.  I 
need  scarce  warn  a  Comyn  to  be  secret  on  what  has  passed ;  I 
would  not  have  the  foul  insolence  cast  into  our  teeth  as  yet 
proclaimed.  Begone,  both  of  ye ;  we  would  be  a  brief  space 
alone." 

The  deadly  pallor  which  had  usurped  the  flush  of  fury  on 
the  monarch's  cheek  afforded  such  strong  evidence  of  a  sharp 
renewal  of  his  internal  pains,  that  both  noblemen  hesitated  to 
obey.  The  damp  of  agony  stood  upon  his  forehead  a  moment 
in  large  drops,  then  absolutely  poured  down  his  cheeks,  while 
his  gaunt  frame  shook  with  the  effort  to  suppress  the  groan 
which  his  throes  wrung  from  him.  Seizing  a  cordial  near  him, 
Buchan  presented  it  on  his  knee,  but  Edward  only  waved  them 
both  away,  angrily  and  impatiently  pointing  to  the  door.  He 
loved  not  the  weakness  of  an  appalling  disease  to  be  witnessed 
by  his  courtiers.  When  utterly  incapacitated  from  either  the 
appearance  or  functions  of  the  sovereign,  he  chose  to  be  alone, 
his  pride  scarcely  brooking  even  the  cares  of  his  young  and 
beautiful  wife,  or  the  yet  wiser  and  truer  affection  of  his 
daughters.  The  effects  of  this  interview  will  be  seen  in  a 
future  chapter. 


THE  DAYS  OF   BRUCE.  289 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THERE  -was  an  expression  of  both  sorrow  and  care  on  the  fine 
and  winning  features  of  the  Princess  Joan,  Countess  of  Glou- 
cester, as  she  sat  busied  in  embroidery  in  an  apartment  of  Car- 
lisle Castle,  often  pausing  to  rest  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and 
glance  out  of  the  broad  casement  near  which  she  sat,  not  in  ad- 
miration of  the  placid  scene  which  stretched  beyond,  but  in 
the  mere  forgetfulness  of  uneasy  thought.  Long  the  favorite 
daughter  of  King  Edward,  perchance  because  her  character 
more  resembled  that  of  her  mother,  Queen  Eleanor,  than  did 
either  of  her  sisters,  she  had  till  lately  possessed  unbounded  in- 
fluence over  bun.  Not  only  his  affection  but  his  pride  was 
gratified  in  her,  for  he  saw  much  of  his  own  wisdom,  penetra- 
tion, and  high  sense  of  honor  reflected  upon  her,  far  more  for- 
cibly than  in  his  weak  and  yielding  son.  But  lately,  the  change 
which  had  so  painfully  darkened  the  character  and  actions  of 
her  father  had  extended  even  to  her.  Her  affection  for  a  long 
time  blinded  her  to  this  painful  truth,  but  by  slow  degrees  it 
became  too  evident  to  be  mistaken,  and  she  had  wept  many 
bitter  tears,  less  perhaps  for  herself  than  for  her  father,  whom 
she  had  almost  idolized.  His  knightly  qualities,  his  wisdom, 
the  good  he  had  done  his  country,  all  were  treasured  up  by  her 
and  rejoiced  in  with  never-failing  delight.  His  reputation,  his 
popularity,  were  dear  to  her,  even  as  her  noble  husband's.  She 
had  not  only  loved,  she  had  reverenced  him  as  some  superior 
being  who  had  come  but  to  do  good,  to  leave  behind  him 
through  succeeding  ages  an  untarnished  name,  enshrined  in 
such  love,  England  would  be  long  ere  she  spoke  it  without 
tears.  And  now,  alas !  she  had  outlived  such  dreams ;  her 
reverence,  lingering  still,  had  been  impaired  by  deeds  of  blood ; 
her  pride  in  him  crushed ;  naught  but  a  daughter's  love  remain- 
ing, which  did  but  more  strongly  impress  upon  her  heart  the 
fatal  change.  And  now  the  last  blow  was  given  ;  he  shunned 
her,  scarcely  ever  summoned  her  to  his  presence,  permitted  the 
wife  of  a  day  to  tend  him  in  his  sufferings,  rather  than  the 
daughter  of  his  former  love,  one  hallowed  by  the  memories  of 
her  mother,  the  beloved  and  faithful  partner  of  his  youth. 

It  was  not,  however,  these  thoughts  which  entirely  engrossed 
13 


290  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

her  now  not  undivided  sorrows.  Her  sister  Elizabeth,  the 
Countess  of  Hereford,  had  just  left  her,  plunged  in  the  deepest 
distress,  from  the  extraordinary  fact  that  her  husband,  sum- 
moned seemingly  in  all  amity  by  the  king,  had  been  arrested 
by  the  Lord  Marshal  of  England  as  an  aider  and  abettor  of 
treason,  and  was  now  in  strict  confinement  within  the  castle  ; 
not  permitted  to  embrace  his  wife  and  children,  whom  he  had 
not  seen  since  his  arrival  from  Scotland,  where  he  had  so  gal- 
lantly assisted  the  cause  of  Edward,  and  whence  he  had  but 
just  returned  in  triumph.  No  other  cause  was  assigned  saving 
having  given  countenance  to  treason  and  l£ze  majestt,  but  that 
the  irritation  of  the  king  had  prohibited  all  hope  of  present 
pardon ; — she,  Lady  Hereford,  though  his  own  daughter, 
having  been  refused  admission  to  his  presence.  Both  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Gloucester  had  anxiously  striven  to  comfort 
the  anxious  wife,  conquering  their  own  fears  to  assure  her  that 
hers  were  groundless  ;  that  though  from  some  mysterious  cause 
at  present  irritated,  as  they  knew  too  well  a  trifle  made  him 
now,  Hereford  was  too  good  and  loyal  a  subject  for  the  king  to 
proceed  to  extremities,  whatever  might  have  been  his  fault. 
Rumors  of  the  confusion  at  Berwick  had  indeed  reached  Car- 
lisle, and  it  was  to  have  them  confirmed  or  denied,  or  connected 
with  some  appearance  of  veracity,  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  had 
quitted  the  royal  sisters,  determining  to  use  his  influence  with 
his  sovereign,  even  to  dare  his  wrath,  for  the  release  of  Here- 
ford, whose  good  services  in  Scotland  deserved  a  somewhat 
different  recompense.  Lady  Hereford,  too  anxious  and  dispir- 
ited to  remain  long  in  one  place,  soon  departed  to  seek  the 
youthful  Margaret  of  France,  her  father's  beautiful  wife,  and 
beseech  her  influence  with  him,  either  for  the  pardon  of  her 
husband,  or  at  least  communication  with  him. 

It  was  these  sad  thoughts  which  engrossed  the  Princess 
Joan,  and  they  lingered  too  on  Hereford's  prisoner,  the  brave 
and  noble  Nigel,  for  both  to  her  husband  and  herself  he  had 
been  in  his  boyhood  an  object  not  only  of  interest  but  of  love. 
His  beauty,  his  extraordinary  talents,  had  irresistibly  attracted 
them ;  and  yet  scarcely  could  they  now  believe  the  youthful 
knight,  with  whose  extraordinary  valor  not  only  Scotland  but 
England  rung,  could  be  that  same  enthusiast  boy.  That  he 
had  been  taken,  was  now  a  prisoner  in  Berwick  Castle,  on 
whom  sentence  of  death  sooner  or  later  would  be  passed, 


THE  DATS   OF  BRUCE.  291 

brought  conviction  but  too  sadly  to  their  hearts,  and  made 
them  feel  yet  more  bitterly  their  influence  with  Edward  was 
of  no  account. 

"  Hast  thou  succeeded,  Gilbert  ?  Oh,  say  that  poor  Eliza- 
beth may  at  least  be  permitted  access  to  her  husband,"  was  the 
countess's  eager  salutation  to  her  husband,  as  he  silently  ap- 
proached her.  He  shook  his  head  sorrowfully. 

"  Alas  !  not  even  this.  Edward  is  inexorable,  possessed  by 
I  know  not  what  spirit  of  opposition  and  wrath,  furiously  an- 
gered against  Hereford,  to  the  utter  forgetfulness  of  all  his 
gallant  deeds  in  Scotland." 

"  But  wherefore  ?  What  can  have  chanced  in  this  brief 
period  to  occasion  this  ?  but  a  few  days  since  he  spoke  of 
Hereford  as  most  loyal  and  deserving." 

"  Aye,  that  was  on  the  news  of  Kildrummie's  surrender ; 
now  forgotten,  from  anger  at  a  deed  which  but  a  few  years 
back  he  would  have  been  the  first  to  have  admired.  That  rash 
madman,  Nigel  Bruce,  hath  not  only  trebly  sealed  his  own  fate, 
but  hurled  down  this  mishap  on  his  captor,"  and  briefly  he  nar- 
rated all  he  had  learned. 

"  It  was,  indeed,  a  rash  action,  Gilbert ;  yet  was  it  altogether 
unnatural  ?  Alas,  no !  the  boy  had  had  no  spark  of  chivalry 
or  patriotism  about  him,  had  he  stood  tamely  by ;  and  Glou- 
cester," she  added,  with  bitter  tears,  "  years  back  would  my 
father  have  given  cause  for  this — would  he  thus  have  treated 
an  unhappy  woman,  thus  have  added  insult  to  misery,  for  an 
act  which,  shown  to  other  than  his  rival,  he  would  have  hon- 
ored, aye,  not  alone  the  deed,  but  the  doer  of  it  ?  If  we,  his 
own  children,  feel  shamed  and  indignant  at  this  cruelty,  oh, 
what  must  be  the  feelings  of  her  countrymen,  her  friends  ?" 

"  Then  thou  believest  not  the  foul  slander  attached  to  the 
Countess  of  Buchan,  my  Joan  ?" 

"  Believe  it !"  she  answered,  indignantly ;  "  who  that  has 
looked  on  that  noble  woman's  face  can  give  it  the  smallest  cre- 
dence ?  No,  Gilbert,  no.  'Tis  published  by  those  base  spirits 
so  utterly  incapable  of  honor,  knighthood,  and  patriotism  them- 
selves, that  they  cannot  conceive  these  qualities  in  others,  par- 
ticularly in  a  female  breast,  and  therefore  assign  it  to  motives 
black  as  the  hearts  which  thought  them  ;  and  even  if  it  were 
true,  is  a  kingly  conqueror  inflicting  justice  for  treason  against 


292  THE  DATS   OF   BEUCE. 

himself,  to  assign  other  motives  for  that  justice  ?  Doth  he  not 
lower  himself — his  own  cause  ?" 

"  Alas,  yes  !"  replied  her  husband,  sorrowfully ;  "  he  hath 
done  his  character  more  injury  by  this  last  act  than  any  which 
preceded.  Though  men  might  wish  less  blood  were  shed,  yet 
still,  traitors  taken  in  arms  against  his  person  justice  must  con- 
demn ;  but  a  woman,  a  sad  and  grieving  woman — but  do  not 
weep  thus,  my  gentle  wife,"  he  added,  tenderly. 

"  Can  a  daughter  of  Edward  do  other  than  weep,  my  hus- 
band ?  Oh,  if  I  loved  him  not,  if  my  very  spirit  did  not  cling 
round  him  so  closely  that  the  fibres  of  both  seem  entwined,  and 
his  deeds  of  wrath,  of  exacting  justice,  fall  on  me  as  if  I  had 
done  them,  and  overwhelm  me  with  their  shame,  their  remorse, 
then  indeed  I  might  not  weep  ;  but  as  it  is,  do  not  chide  me, 
Gilbert,  for  weep  I  must." 

"  Thou  art  too  noble-hearted,  Joan,"  he  said,  kindly,  as  he 
circled  her  waist  with  his  arm,  "  only  too  noble-hearted  for 
these  fearful  times.  'Tis  but  too  sad  a  proof  of  the  change  in 
thy  royal  father,  that  he  shuns  thy  presence  now  even  as  he 
once  loved  it." 

A  confusion  in  the  passage  and  ante-room  disturbed  their 
converse,  and  Gloucester  turned  towards  the  door  to  inquire 
the  cause. 

"  'Tis  but  a  troublesome  boy,  demanding  access  to  her  high- 
ness the  countess,  my  lord,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  have  asked 
his  name  and  business,  questions  he  deigns  not,  forsooth,  to 
answer,  and  looks  so  wild  and  distracted,  that  I  scarce  think  it 
accords  with  my  duty  to  afford  him  admittance.  He  is  no  fit 
recipient  of  my  lady's  bounty,  good  my  lord ;  trust  me,  he  will 
but  fright  her." 

"  I  have  no  such  fear,  my  good  Baldwin,"  said  the  princess, 
as,  on  hearing  her  name,  she  came  forward  to  the  centre  of  the 
chamber ;  "  thou  knowest  my  presence  is  granted  to  all  who 
seek  it,  an  this  poor  child  seems  so  wild,  he  is  the  fitter  object 
of  my  care.  They  are  using  violence  methinks  ;  give  him  en- 
trance instantly." 

The  attendant  departed,  and  returned  in  a  very  brief  space, 
followed  by  a  lad,  whose  torn  and  muddy  garments,  haggard 
features,  and  dishevelled  hair  indeed  verified  the  description 
given.  He  glanced  wildly  round  him  a  moment,  and  then 
flinging  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  princess,  clasped  her  robe 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  293 

and  struggled  to  say  something,  of  which  the  words  "  mercy, 
protection,"  were  alone  audible. 

"  Mercy,  my  poor  child  !  what  mercy  dost  thou  crave  ?  Pro- 
tection I  may  give  thee,  but  how  may  I  show  thee  mercy  ?" 

"  Grant  me  but  a  few  moments,  lady,  let  me  but  speak  with 
thee  alone.  I  bear  a  message  which  I  may  not  deliver  to  other 
ears  save  thine,"  said  or  rather  gasped  the  boy,  for  he  breathed 
with  difficulty,  either  from  exhaustion  or  emotion. 

"  Alone  !"  replied  the  countess,  somewhat  surprised.  "Leave 
us,  Baldwin,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "  I  am  pri- 
vately engaged  for  the  next  hour,  denied  to  all,  save  his  grace 
the  king."  He  withdrew,  with  a  respectful  bow.  "  And  now, 
speak,  poor  child,  what  wouldst  thou  ?  Nay,  I  hear  nothing 
which  my  husband  may  not  hear,"  she  said,  as  the  eyes  of  her 
visitor  gazed  fearfully  on  the  earl,  who  was  looking  at  him  with 
surprise. 

"  Thy  husband,  lady — the  Earl  of  Gloucester  ?  oh,  it  was  to 
him  too  I  came  ;  the  brother-in-arms  of  my  sovereign,  one  that 
showed  kindness  to — to  Sir  Nigel  in  his  youth,  ye  will  not,  ye 
will  not  forsake  him  now  ?" 

Few  and  well-nigh  inarticulate  as  were  those  broken  words, 
they  betrayed  much  which  at  once  excited  interest  in  both  the 
earl  and  countess,  and  told  the  reason  of  the  lad's  earnest  en- 
treaty to  see  them  alone. 

"  Forsake  him !"  exclaimed  the  earl,  after  carefully  examin- 
ing that  the  door  was  closed  ;  "  would  to  heaven  I  could  serve 
him,  free  him !  that  there  was  but  one  slender  link  to  lay  hold 
of,  to  prove  him  innocent  and  give  him  life,  I  would  do  it,  did 
it  put  my  own  head  in  jeopardy." 

"  And  is  there  none,  none  ?"  burst  wildly  from  the  boy's 
lips,  as  he  sprung  from  his  knees,  and  grasped  convulsively  the 
earl's  arm.  "  Oh,  what  has  he  done  that  they  should  slay 
him  ?  why  do  they  call  him  guilty  ?  He  was  not  Edward's 
subject,  he  owed  him  no  homage,  no  service,  he  has  but  fought 
to  free  his  country,  and  is  there  guilt  in  this  ?  oh,  no,  no,  save 
him,  in  mercy  save  him  !" 

"  Thou  knowest  not  what  thou  askest,  boy,  how  wholly, 
utterly  impossible  it  is  to  save  him.  He  hath  hurled  down 
increase  of  anger  on  his  own  head  by  his  daring  insult  of  King 
Edward's  herald ;  had  there  been  hope  before  there  is  none 
now." 


294  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

A  piercing  cry  escaped  the  boy,  and  he  would  have  fallen, 
had  he  not  been  supported  by  the  countess  ;  he  looked  at  her 
pitying  face,  and  again  threw  himself  at  her  feet. 

"  Canst  thou  not,  wilt  thou  not  save  him  ?"  he  cried ;  "  art 
thou  not  the  daughter  of  Edward,  his  favorite,  his  dearly  be- 
loved, and  will  he  not  list  to  thee — will  he  not  hear  thy  plead- 
ings ?  Oh,  seek  him,  kneel  to  him  as  I  to  thee,  implore  his 
mercy — life,  life,  only  the  gift  of  life  ;  sentence  him  to  exile, 
perpetual  exile,  what  he  will,  only  let  him  live :  he  is  too  young, 
too  good,  too  beautiful  to  die.  Oh  !  do  not  look  as  if  this  could 
not  be.  He  has  told  me  how  you  both  loved  him,  not  that  I 
should  seek  ye.  It  is  not  at  his  request  I  come ;  no,  no,  no, 
he  spurns  life,  if  it  be  granted  on  conditions.  But  they  have 
torn  me  from  him,  they  have  borne  him  to  the  lowest  dungeon, 
they  have  loaded  him  with  fetters,  put  him  to  the  torture.  I 
would  have  clung  to  him  still,  but  they  spurned  me,  trampled 
on  me,  cast  me  forth — to  die,  if  I  may  not  save  him !  Wilt 
thou  not  have  mercy,  princess  ?  daughter  of  Edward,  oh,  save 
him,  save  him !" 

It  is  impossible  in  the  above  incoherent  words  to  convey  to 
the  reader  even  a  faint  idea  of  the  agonized  wildness  with  which 
they  were  spoken  ;  the  impression  of  unutterable  misery  they 
gave  to  those  who  listened  to  them,  and  marked  their  reflection 
in  the  face  of  the  speaker. 

"  Fetters — the  lowest  dungeon — torture,"  repeated  Glou- 
cester, pacing  up  and  down  with  disordered  steps.  "  Can  these 
things  be  ?  merciful  heaven,  how  low  hath  England  fallen  ! 
Boy,  boy,  can  it  be  thou  speakest  truth  ?" 

"  As  there  is  a  God  above,  it  is  truth !"  he  answered,  pas- 
sionately. "  Oh,  canst  thou  not  save  him  from  this  ?  is  there 
no  justice,  no  mercy  ?  Rise — no,  no  ;  wherefore  should  I 
rise  ?"  he  continued,  clinging  convulsively  to  the  knees  of  the 
princess,  as  she  soothingly  sought  to  raise  him.  "  I  will  kneel 
here  till  thou  hast  promised  to  plead  for  him  with  thy  royal 
father,  promised  to  use  thine  influence  for  his  life.  Oh,  canst 
thou  once  have  loved  him  and  yet  hesitate  for  this  ?" 

"  I  do  not,  I  would  not  hesitate,  unhappy  boy,"  replied  the 
princess,  tenderly.  "  God  in  heaven  knows,  were  there  the 
slenderest  chance  of  saving  him,  I  would  kneel  at  my  father's 
feet  till  pardon  was  obtained,  but  angered  as  he  is  now  it 
would  irritate  him  yet  more.  Alas  !  alas !  poor  child,  they 


THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE.  295 

told  thee  wrong  who  bade  thee  come  to  Joan  for  influence 
with  Edward  ;  I  have  none  now,  less  than  any  of  his  court," 
and  the  large  tears  fell  from  the  eyes  of  the  princess  on  the 
boy's  upturned  face. 

"  Then  let  me  plead  for  him  ;  give  me  access  to  Edward. 
Oh,  I  will  so  beseech,  conjure  him,  he  cannot,  he  will  not  say 
me  nay.  Oh,  if  his  heart  be  not  of  steel,  he  will  have  mercy  on 
our  wretchedness;  he  will  pardon,  he  will  spare  my  husband  !" 

The  sob  with  which  that  last  word  was  spoken  shook  that 
slight  frame,  till  it  bowed  to  the  very  ground,  and  the  support- 
ing arm  of  the  countess  alone  preserved  her  from  falling. 

"  Thy  husband ! — Gracious  heaven !  who  and  what  art  thou  ?" 
exclaimed  the  earl,  springing  towards  her,  at  the  same  instant 
that  his  wife  raised  her  in  her  arms,  and  laid  her  on  a  couch 
beside  them,  watching  with  the  soothing  tenderness  of  a  sister, 
till  voice  and  strength  returned. 

"  Alas  !  I  feared  there  was  more  in  this  deep  agony  than  we 
might  see,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  imagined  not,  dared  not  imagine 
aught  like  this.  Poor  unhappy  sufferer,  the  saints  be  praised 
thou  hast  come  to  me  !  thy  husband's  life  I  may  not  save,  but 
I  can  give  protection,  tenderness  to  thee — aye  weep,  weep, 
there  is  life,  reason  in  those  tears." 

The  gentle  voice  of  sympathy,  of  kindness,  had  come  upon 
that  overcharged  heart,  and  broke  the  icy  agony  which  had 
closed  it  to  the  relief  of  tears.  Mind  and  frame  were  utterly 
exhausted,  and  Agnes  buried  her  face  in  the  hands  of  the  prin- 
cess, which  she  had  clasped  convulsively  within  both  hers,  and 
wept,  till  the  wildness  of  agony  indeed  departed,  but  not  the 
horrible  consciousness  of  the  anguish  yet  to  come.  Gradually 
her  whole  tale  was  imparted  :  from  the  resolution  to  follow  her 
betrothed  even  to  England,  and  cling  to  him  to  the  last ;  the  fatal 
conclusion  of  that  rite  which  had  made  them  one  ;  the  anxiety 
and  suffering  which  had  marked  the  days  spent  in  effecting  a 
complete  disguise,  ere  she  could  venture  near  him  and  obtain 
Hereford's  consent  to  her  attending  him  as  a  page;  the  risks 
and  hardships  which  had  attended  their  journey  to  Berwick, 
till  even  a  prison  seemed  a  relief  and  rest ;  and  then  the  sud- 
den change,  that  a  few  days  previous,  the  Earl  of  Berwick  had 
entered  Sir  Nigel's  prison,  at  the  head  of  five  or  ten  ruffians, 
had  loaded  him  with  fetters,  conveyed  him  to  the  lowest  and 
filthiest  dungeon,  and  there  had  administered  the  torture,  she 


296  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

knew  not  wherefore.  Her  shriek  of  agony  had  betrayed  tha, 
she  had  followed  them,  and  she  was  rudely  and  forcibly  dragged 
from  him,  and  thrust  from  the  fortress.  Her  brain  had  reeled, 
her  senses  a  brief  while  forsaken  her,  and  when  she  recovered, 
her  only  distinct  thought  was  to  find  her  way  to  Carlisle,  and 
there  obtain  access  to  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Gloucester,  of 
whom  her  husband  had  spoken  much  during  their  journey  to 
England,  not  with  any  wish  or  hope  of  obtaining  mercy  through 
their  influence,  but  simply  as  the  friends  of  former  years  ;  he 
had  spoken  of  them  to  while  away  the  tedious  hours  of  their 
journey,  and  besought  her,  if  she  should  be  parted  from  him 
on  their  arrival  at  Berwick,  to  seek  them,  and  implore  their 
protection  till  her  strength  was  restored.  Of  herself,  however, 
in  thus  seeking  them,  she  had  thought  not ;  the  only  idea,  the 
only  thought  clearly  connected  in  her  mind  was  to  beseech 
their  influence  with  Edward  in  obtaining  her  husband's  pardon. 
Misery  and  anxiety,  in  a  hundred  unlooked-for  shapes,  had 
already  shown  the  fallacy  of  those  dreams  which  in  the  hour 
of  peril  had  strengthened  her,  and  caused  her  to'  fancy  that 
when  once  his  wife  she  not  only  might  abide  by  him,  but  that 
she  might  in  some  manner  obtain  his  liberation.  She  did  not, 
indeed,  lament  her  fate  was  joined  to  his — lament !  she  could 
not  picture  herself  other  than  she  was,  by  her  husband's  side, 
but  she  felt,  how  bitterly  felt,  she  had  no  power  to  avert  his 
fate.  Despair  was  upon  her,  cold,  black,  clinging  despair,  and 
she  clung  to  the  vain  dream  of  imploring  Edward's  mercy,  feel- 
ing at  the  same  moment  it  was  but  the  ignis  fatui  to  her  heart — 
urging,  lighting,  impelling  her  on,  but  to  sink  in  pitchy  dark- 
ness when  approached. 

Gradually  and  painfully  this  narrative  of  anguish  was  drawn 
from  her  lips,  often  unconnectedly,  often  incoherently,  but  the 
earl  and  countess  heard  enough  to  fill  their  hearts  alike  with 
pity  and  respect  for  the  deep,  unselfish  love  unconsciously  re- 
vealed. She  had  told,  too,  her  maiden  name,  had  conjured 
them  to  conceal  her  from  the  power  of  her  father,  at  whose 
veiy  name  she  shuddered  ;  and  both  those  noble  hearts  shared 
her  anxiety,  sympathized  in  her  anguish  ;  and  speedily  she  felt, 
if  there  could  be  comfort  in  such  deep  wretchedness,  she  had 
told  her  tale  to  those  ready  and  willing,  and  able  to  bestow  it. 

The  following  day  the  barons  sat  in  judgment  on  Sir  Nigel 
Bruce,  and  Gloucester  was  obliged  to  join  them.  It  was  use- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  297 

less,  both  he  and  the  princess  felt,  to  implore  the  king's  mercy 
till  sentence  was  passed  ;  alas !  it  was  useless  at  any  time,  but 
it  must  have  been  a  colder  and  harder  heart  than  the  Princess 
Joan's  to  look  upon  the  face  of  Agnes,  and  yet  determine  on  not 
even  making  one  effort  in  his  favor.  At  first  the  unhappy  girl 
besought  the  earl  to  permit  her  accompanying  him  back  to  Ber- 
wick, to  attend  her  husband  on  his  trial ;  but  on  his  proving  it 
would  but  be  uselessly  harrowing  the  feelings  of  both,  for  it 
would  not  enable  her  to  go  back  with  him  to  prison,  that  it 
would  be  better  for  her  to  remain  under  the  protection  of  the 
countess,  endeavoring  to  regain  strength  for  whatever  she 
might  have  to  encounter,  either  to  accompany  him  to  exile,  if 
grace  were  indeed  granted,  or  to  return  to  her  friends  in  Scot- 
land, she  yielded  mournfully,  deriving  some  faint  degree  of 
comfort  in  the  earl's  assurance  that  she  should  rejoin  her  hus- 
band as  soon  as  possible,  and  the  countess's  promise  that  if  she 
wished  it,  she  should  herself  be  witness  of  her  interview  with 
Edward.  It  was  indeed  poor  comfort,  but  her  mind  was  well- 
nigh  wearied  out  with  sorrow,  as  if  incapable  of  bearing  more, 
and  she  acquiesced  from  very  exhaustion. 

The  desire  that  she  herself  should  conjure  the  mercy  of 
Edward  had  been  negatived  even  to  her  anxious  heart  by  the 
assurance  of  both  the  earl  and  the  princess,  that  instead  of  do- 
ing good  to  her  husband's  cause  she  would  but  sign  her  own 
doom,  perchance  be  consigned  to  the  power  of  her  father,  and 
be  compelled  to  relinquish  the  poor  consolation  of  being  with 
her  husband  to  the  last.  It  was  better  she  should  retain  the 
disguise  she  had  assumed,  adopting  merely  in  addition  the 
dress  of  one  of  the  princess's  own  pages,  a  measure  which 
would  save  her  from  all  observation  in  the  palace,  and  give  her 
admittance  to  Sir  Nigel,  perchance,  when  as  his  own  attendant 
it  would  be  denied.  ,. 

The  idea  of  rejoining  her  husband  would  have  reconciled 
Agnes  to  any  thing  that  might  have  been  proposed,  and  kneel- 
ing at  the  feet  of  her  protectress,  she  struggled  to  speak  her 
wUlingness  and  blessing  on  her  goodness,  but  her  tongue  was 
parched,  her  lips  were  mute,  and  the  princess  turned  away,  for 
her  gentle  spirit  could  not  read  unmoved  the  silent  thankfulness 
of  that  young  and  breaking  heart. 

13* 


298  THE   DATS   OF   BRUCE. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

IT  would  be  useless  to  linger  on  the  trial  of  Nigel  Bruce,  in 
itself  a  mockery  of  justice,  as  were  all  those  which  had  pro- 
ceeded, and  all  that  followed  it.  The  native  nobility  of  Scot- 
land were  no  subjects  of  the  King  of  England  ;  they  owed  him 
homage,  perchance,  for  lands  held  in  England,  but  on  flocking 
to  the  standard  of  the  Bruce  these  had  at  once  been  voluntarily 
forfeited,  and  they  fought  but  as  Scottish  men  determined  to 
throw  off  the  yoke  of  a  tyrant  whose  arms  had  overrun  a  land 
to  which  he  had  no  claim.  They  fought  for  the  freedom  of  a 
country,  for  their  own  liberty,  and  therefore  were  no  traitors  ; 
but  these  facts  availed  not  with  the  ruthless  sovereign,  to  whom 
opposition  was  treason.  The  mockery  of  justice  proceeded,  it 
gave  a  deeper  impression,  a  graver  solemnity  to  their  execution, 
and  therefore  for  not  one  of  his  prisoners  was  the  ceremony  dis- 
pensed with.  Sir  Christopher  Seaton  had  been  conveyed  to 
the  Tower,  with  his  wife,  under  pretence  of  there  waiting  till 
his  wounds  were  cured,  to  abide  his  trial,  and  in  that  awful 
hour  Sir  Nigel  stood  alone.  Yet  he  was  undaunted,  for  he 
feared  not  death  even  at  the  hangman's  hand  ;  his  spirit  was  at 
peace,  for  he  was  innocent  of  sin ;  unbowed,  for  he  was  no 
traitor — he  was  a  patriot  warrior  still.  Pale  he  was,  indeed, 
ashy  pale,  but  it  told  a  tale  of  intense  bodily  anguish.  They 
had  put  him  to  the  torture,  to  force  from  his  lips  the  place  of 
his  brother's  retreat,  that  being  the  only  pretence  on  which  the 
rage  of  Edward  and  the  malice  of  Berwick  could  rest  for  the 
infliction  of  their  cruelty.  They  could  drag  naught  from  his 
lips ;  they  could  not  crush  that  exalted  soul,  or  compel  it  to 
utter  more  than  a  faint,  scarcely  articulate  groan,  as  proof  that 
he  suffered,  that  the  beautiful  frame  was  well-nigh  shattered 
unto  death.  And  now  he  stood  upright,  unshrinking;  and 
there  were  hearts  amid  those  peers  inwardly  grieving  at  their 
fell  task,  gazing  on  him  with  unfeigned  admiration  ;  Avhile  others 
gloried  that  another  obstacle  to  their  sovereign's  schemes  of 
ambition  would  be  removed,  finding,  perchance,  in  his  youth, 
beauty,  and  noble  bearing,  from  their  contrast  with  themselves, 
but  fresh  incentives  to  the  doom  of  death,  and  determining, 
even  as  they  sate  and  scowled  on  him,  to  aggravate  the  bitter- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

ness  of  that  doom  with  all  the  ignominy  that  cruelty  could 
devise. 

He  had  listened  in  stern  silence  to  the  indictment,  and  evin- 
ced no  sign  of  emotion  even  when,  in  the  virulence  of  some 
Avitnesses  against  him,  the  most  degrading  epithets  were  lav- 
ished on  himself,  his  family,  and  friends.  Only  once  had  his 
eye  flashed  fire  and  his  cheek  burned,  and  his  right  hand  un- 
consciously sought  where  his  weapon  should  have  hung,  when 
1m  noble  brother  was  termed  a  ribald  assassin,  an  excommuni- 
cated murderer  ;  but  quickly  he  checked  that  natural  emotion, 
and  remained  collected  as  before.  He  was  silent  till  the  usual 
question  was  asked,  "  If  he  had  any  thing  to  say  why  sentence 
of  death  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  him  ?"  and  then  he 
made  a  step  forward,  looked  boldly  and  sternly  around  him, 
and  spoke,  in  a  rich,  musical  voice,  the  following  brief,  though 
emphatic  words  : 

"  Ye  ask  me  if  I  could  say  aught  why  sentence  of  death 
should  not  be  pronounced.  Nobles  of  England,  in  denying  the 
charge  of  treason  with  which  ye  have  indicted  me,  I  have  said 
enough.  Before  ye,  aye,  before  your  sovereign,  I  have  done 
nothing  to  merit  death,  save  that  death  which  a  conqueror  be- 
stows on  his  captive,  when  he  deems  him  too  powerful  to  live. 
The  death  of  a  traitor  I  protest  against ;  for  to  the  King  of 
England  I  am  no  subject,  and  in  consequence  no  traitor !  I 
have  but  done  that  which  every  true  and  honorable  man  must 
justify,  and  in  justifying  respect.  I  have  sought  with  my  whole 
heart  the  liberty  of  my  country,  the  interest  of  my  lawful  sov- 
ereign, and  will  die  asserting  the  honor  and  justice  of  my  cause, 
even  as  I  have  lived.  I  plead  not  for  mercy,  for  were  it  offered, 
on  condition  of  doing  homage  unto  Edward,  I  would  refuse  it, 
and  choose  death ;  protesting  to  the  last  that  Robert  Bruce, 
and  he  alone,  is  rightful  king  of  Scotland.  My  lords,  in  con- 
demning me  to  death  as  a  captive  taken  in  war,  ye  may  be 
justified  by  the  law  of  battles,  I  dispute  not  the  justice  of  your 
doom ;  but  an  ye  sentence  me  as  traitor,  I  do  deny  the  charge, 
and  say  my  condemnation  is  unjust  and  foul,  and  ye  are  per- 
jured in  its  utterance.  I  have  said.  Now  let  your  work 
proceed." 

He  folded  his  arms  on  his  breast,  and  awaited  in  unbroken 
silence  his  doom.  A  brief  pause  had  followed  his  words. 
The  Earl  of  Gloucester,  who,  from  his  rank  and  near  connection 


300  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

with  the  king,  occupied  one  of  the  seats  of  honor  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  large  hall,  and  had,  during  the  trial,  vainly  sought 
to  catch  the  prisoner's  eye,  now  reclined  back  on  his  seat,  his 
brow  resting  on  his  hand,  his  features  completely  concealed  by 
the  dark  drapery  of  his  cloak.  In  that  position  he  remained, 
not  only  during  the  pause,  but  while  the  fatal  sentence  was 
pronounced. 

"  By  the  laws  of  your  country,  and  the  sentence  of  your 
peers,"  so  it  ran,  "  you,  Nigel  Bruce,  by  manifold  acts  of  re- 
bellion, disaffection,  and  raising  up  arms  against  your  lawful 
king,  Edward,  the  sovereign  of  England  and  Scotland,  and  all 
the  realms,  castles,  and  lordships  thereto  pertaining,  are  proved 
guilty  of  high  treason  and  Use  majeste,  and  are  thereby  con- 
demned to  be  divested  of  all  symbols  of  nobility  and  knight- 
hood, which  you  have  disgraced  ;  to  be  dragged  on  a  hurdle 
to  the  common  gibbet,  and  there  hung  by  the  neck  till  you  are 
dead  ;  your  head  to  be  cut  off ;  your  body  quartered  and  ex- 
posed at  the  principal  towns  as  a  warning  to  the  disaffected 
and  the  traitorous  of  all  ranks  in  either  nation,  and  this  is  to  be 
done  at  whatsoever  time  the  good  pleasure  of  our  sovereign 
lord  the  king  may  please  to  appoint.  God  save  King  Edward, 
and  so  perish  all  his  foes !" 

Not  a  muscle  of  the  prisoner's  face  had  moved  during  the 
utterance  of  this  awful  sentence.  He  had  glanced  fearlessly 
around  him  to  the  last,  his  eye  resting  on  the  figure  of  the  Earl 
of  Gloucester  with  an  expression  of  pitying  commiseration  for 
a  moment,  as  if  he  felt  for  him,  for  his  deep  regret  in  his  coun- 
try's shame,  infinitely  more  than  for  himself.  Proudly  erect  he 
held  himself,  as  they  led  him  in  solemn  pomp  from  the  great 
hall  of  the  castle,  across  the  court  to  the  dungeons  of  the  con- 
demned, gazing  calmly  and  unflinchingly  on  the  axe,  which 
carried  with  its  edge  towards  him  proclaimed  him  condemned, 
though  his  doom  was  more  ignominious  than  the  axe  bestowed. 
There  was  a  time  when  he  had  shrunk  from  the  anticipated 
agony  of  a  degradation  so  complete  as  this — but  not  now  ;  his 
spirit  was  already  lifted  up  above  the  honors  and  humiliations 
of  earth.  But  one  dream  of  this  world  remained — one  sad, 
sweet  dream  clung  to  his  heart,  and  bound  it  with  silver  chains 
below.  Where  was  that  gentle  being  ?  He  fondly  hoped  she 
had  sought  the  friends  of  his  boyhood,  as  he  had  implored  her, 
should  they  be  parted  ;  he  strove  to  realize  comfort  in  the 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  301 

thought  they  would  protect  and  save  her  the  agony  of  a  final 
parting  ;  but  he  strove  in  vain.  One  wild  yearning  possessed 
him,  to  gaze  upon  her  face,  to  fold  her  to  his  heart  once,  but  once 
again :  it  was  the  last  lingering  remnant  of  mortality ;  he  had 
not  another  thought  of  life  but  this,  and  this  grew  stronger  as 
its  hope  seemed  vain.  But  there  was  one  near  to  give  him 
comfort,  when  he  expected  it  not. 

Wrapped  so  closely  in  his  dark,  shrouding  mantle  that  naught 
but  the  drooping  feather  of  his  cap  could  be  distinguished,  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester  drew  near  the  prisoner,  and  as  he  paused, 
ere  the  gates  and  bars  of  the  prison  entrance  could  be  drawn 
back,  whispered  hurriedly  yet  emphatically — 

"  A  loved  one  is  safe  and  shall  be  so.  Would  to  God  I 
could  do  more !" 

Suppressing  with  extreme  difficulty  a  start  of  relief  and 
surprise,  the  young  nobleman  glanced  once  on  Gloucester's  face, 
pressed  his  hands  together,  and  answered,  in  the  same  tone — 

"  God  in  heaven  bless  thee  !  I  would  see  her  once,  only  once 
more,  if  it  can  be  without  danger  to  her ;  it  is  life's  last  link, 
I  cannot  snap  it — parted  thus."  They  hurried  him  through 
the  entrance  with  the  last  word  lingering  on  his  lips,  and  before 
Gloucester  could  make  even  a  sign  of  reply. 

Early  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  King  Edward  was 
reclining  on  his  couch,  in  the  chamber  we  have  before  described, 
and,  surrounded  by  some  few  of  his  favorite  noblemen,  ap- 
peared so  animated  by  a  new  cause  of  excitement  as  to  be 
almost  unconscious  of  the  internal  pains  which  even  at  that 
moment  were  more  than  usually  intense.  His  courtiers  looked 
on  unconcernedly  while,  literally  shaking  with  disease  and  weak- 
ness, he  coolly  and  deliberately  traced  those  letters  which  gave 
a  base  and  ignominious  death  to  one  of  the  best,  the  noblest, 
loveliest  spirits  that  ever  walked  the  earth,  and  signed  the  doom 
of  misery  and  madness  to  another  ;  and  yet  no  avenging  hand 
stretched  forth  between  him  and  his  victim,  no  pang  was  on  his 
heart  to  bid  him  pause,  be  merciful,  and  spare.  Oh,  what 
would  this  earth  be  were  it  all  in  all,  and  what  were  life  if  end- 
ing in  the  grave  ?  Faith,  thou  art  the  crystal  key  opening  to 
the  spirit  the  glorious  vision  of  immortality,  bidding  the  trust- 
ing heart,  when  sick  and  weary  of  the  dark  deeds  and  ruthless 
spoilers  of  this  lovely  earth,  rest  on  thy  downy  wings,  and  seek 
for  peace  and  comfort  there. 


302  THE  DATS   OF   BRUCE. 

"  Who  waits  ?"  demanded  the  king,  as  his  pen  ceased  in  its 
task. 

"  Sir  Stephen  Fitzjohn,  my  liege,  sent  by  the  Earl  of  Ber- 
wick with  the  warrant,  for  which  he  waits." 

"  He  need  wait  no  longer  then,  for  it  is  there.  Two  hours 
before  noon  the  traitor  dies ;  we  give  him  grace  till  then,  that 
our  good  subjects  of  Berwick  may  take  warning  by  his  fate, 
and  our  bird  in  the  cage  witness  the  end  of  the  gallant  so 
devoted  to  her  cause.  Bid  the  knight  begone,  my  Lord  of 
Arundel ;  he  hath  too  long  waited  our  pleasure.  Ha  !  whom 
have  we  here  ?  who  craves  admittance  thus  loudly  ?"  he  added, 
observing,  as  the  earl  lifted  the  hangings  to  depart,  some  bustle 
in  the  ante-room.  "  Who  is  it  so  boldly  demanding  speech 
with  us  ?" 

"  Her  Highness  the  Princess  Joan,  Countess  of  Gloucester, 
please  you,  my  liege,"  replied  the  chamberlain ;  "  she  will  not 
take  denial." 

"  Is  it  so  hard  a  thing  for  a  daughter  to  gain  admittance  to 
a  father,  even  though  he  be  a  sovereign  ?"  interrupted  the 
princess,  who,  attended  only  by  a  single  page  bearing  her  train, 
advanced  within  the  chamber,  her  firm  and  graceful  deport- 
ment causing  the  lords  to  fall  back  on  either  side,  and  give  her 
passage,  though  the  expression  of  their  monarch's  countenance 
denoted  the  visit  was  unwelcome. 

"  Humbly  and  earnestly  I  do  beseech  your  grace's  pardon 
for  this  over-bold  intrusion,"  she  said,  bending  one  knee  before 
him ;  "  but  indeed  my  business  could  not  be  delayed.  My 
liege  and  father,  grant  me  but  a  few  brief  minutes.  Oh,  for 
the  sake  of  one  that  loved  us  both,  the  sainted  one  now  gone 
to  heaven,  for  the  memory  of  whom  thou  didst  once  bless  me 
with  fonder  love  than  thou  gavest  to  my  sisters,  because  my 
features  bore  her  stamp,  my  king,  my  father,  pardon  me  and 
let  me  speak !" 

"  Speak  on,"  muttered  the  king,  passing  his  hand  over  his 
features,  and  turning  slightly  from  her,  if  there  were  emotion, 
to  conceal  it.  "  Thou  hast,  in  truth,  been  over-bold,  yet  as 
thou  art  here,  speak  on.  What  wouldst  thou  ?" 

"  A  boon,  a  mighty  boon,  most  gracious  father ;  one  only 
thou  canst  grant,  one  that  in  former  years  thou  wouldst  have 
loved  me  for  the  asking,  and  blessed  me  by  fulfilment,"  she 
said,  as  she  continued  to  kneel ;  and  by  her  beseeching  voice 


THE  DATS   OF   BKUCE.  303 

and  visible  emotion  effectually  confining  the  attention  of  the 
courtiers,  now  assembled  in  a  knot  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
apartment,  and  preventing  their  noticing  the  deportment  of 
the  page  who  had  accompanied  her ;  he  was  leaning  against  a 
marble  pillar  which  supported  the  canopy  raised  over  the  king's 
couch,  his  head  bent  on  his  breast,  the  short,  thick  curls  which 
fell  over  his  forehead  concealing  his  features ;  his  hands,  too, 
crossed  on  his  breast,  convulsively  clenched  the  sleeves  of  his 
doublet,  as  if  to  restrain  the  trembling  which,  had  any  one 
been  sufficiently  near,  or  even  imagined  him  worthy  of  a  distant 
glance,  must  have  been  observable  pervading  his  whole  frame. 

"  A  boon,"  repeated  the  king,  as  the  princess  paused,  almost 
breathless  with  her  own  emotion ;  "  a  mighty  boon !  What 
can  the  Countess  of  Gloucester  have  to  ask  of  me,  that  it 
moves  her  thus  ?  Are  we  grown  so  terrible  that  even  our  own 
children  tremble  ere  they  speak  ?  What  is  this  mighty  boon  ? 
we  grant  not  without  hearing." 

"  Tis  the  boon  of  life,  my  liege,  of  life  thou  canst  bestow. 
Oh,  while  in  this  world  thou  rulest,  vicegerent  of  the  King  of 
kings  on  high,  combining  like  Him  justice  and  mercy,  in  the 
government  of  his  creatures,  oh !  like,  Him,  let  mercy  predomi- 
nate over  justice  ;  deprive  not  of  life,  in  the  bloom,  the  loveli- 
ness of  youth  !  Be  merciful,  my  father,  oh,  be  merciful !  for- 
give as  thou  wouldst  be  forgiven — grant  me  the  life  I  crave  !" 

Urged  on  by  emotion,  the  princess  had  scarcly  heard  the 
suppressed  interjection  of  the  king  which  her  first  words  had 
occasioned,  and  she  scarcely  saw  the  withering  sternness  which 
gathered  on  his  brow. 

"  Thou  hast  in  truth  learnt  oratory,  most  sapient  daughter," 
he  said,  bitterly ;  "  thou  pleadest  well  and  flowingly,  yet  thou 
hast  said  not  for  whom  thou  bearest  this  marvellous  interest — 
it  can  scarce  be  for  a  traitor?  Methinks  the  enemies  of 
Edward  should  be  even  such  unto  his  children." 

"  Yet  'tis  for  one  of  these  mistaken  men  I  plead,  most  gra- 
cious sovereign,"  resumed  Joan,  intimidated  not  by  his  sarcasm. 
"  Oh,  my  father,  the  conqueror's  triumph  consists  not  in  the 
number  of  rebellious  heads  that  fall  before  him — not  in  the 
blood  that  overflows  his  way ;  magnanimity,  mercy,  will  con- 
quer yet  more  than  his  victorious  sword.  Traitor  as  he  seem, 
have  mercy  on  Nigel  Bruce ;  oh,  give — " 

"  Mercy  on  a  Bruce  !     May  the  thunder  of  heaven  blast  me 


304:  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

when  I  show  it !"  burst  furiously  from  Edward's  lips,  as  he 
started  upon  his  couch  and  gazed  on  his  suppliant  child  with 
eyes  that  seemed  absolutely  to  blaze  in  wrath.  "  Mercy  on  a 
branch  of  that  house  which  has  dared  defy  me,  dared  to  insult 
my  power,  trample  on  my  authority,  upraised  the  standard  of 
rebellion,  and  cost  me  the  lives  of  thousands  of  my  faithful 
subjects !  Mercy  on  him,  the  daring  traitor,  who,  even  in  his 
chains,  has  flung  redoubled  insult  and  treason  into  our  very 
teeth !  Mercy — may  the  God  of  heaven  deny  me  all  mercy 
when  I  show  it  unto  him  !" 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  my  father !  My  father,  in  mercy  speak  not 
such  terrible  words !"  implored  the  princess,  clinging  to  his 
robe.  "  Call  not  the  wrath  of  heaven  on  thy  head  ;  think  of 
his  youth,  the  temptations  that  have  beset  him,  the  difficult 
task  to  remain  faithful  when  all  other  of  his  house  turned  astray. 
Mistaken  as  he  hath  been,  as  he  is,  have  mercy.  Compel  him 
to  prove,  to  feel,  to  acknowledge  thou  art  not  the  tyrant  he  hatli 
been  taught  to  deem  thee  ;  exile,  imprisonment,  all — any  thing, 
but  death.  Oh,  do  not  turn  from  me  ;  be  thyself,  the  good,  the 
magnanimous  Edward  of  former  days,  have  mercy  on  thy  foe !" 

"  I  tell  thee,  never !  by  every  saint  in  heaven,  I  tell  thee, 
never  !"  shouted  the  king.  "  I  will  hear  no  more ;  begone,  lest 
I  deem  my  own  child  part  and  parcel  of  the  treasons  formed 
against  me.  Trouble  me  not  with  these  vain  prayers.  I  will 
not  pardon,  I  have  sworn  it ;  begone,  and  learn  thy  station 
better  than  to  plead  for  traitors.  Thy  husband  braved  me 
once  ;  beware,  lest  in  these  pleadings  I  Jiear  his  voice  again.  I 
tell  him  and  thee  that  ere  to  morrow's  noon  be  passed  the  soul 
of  Nigel  Bruce  shall  stand  in  judgment ;  not  another  day,  not 
another  hour  he  lives  to  blast  me  with  the  memory  of  his  trea- 
son. The  warrant  hath  been  signed,  and  is  on  its  way  to  Ber- 
wick, to  give  his  body  to  the  hangman  and  his  soul  to  Satan — 
his  death  is  sealed." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !"  shrieked  a  voice  of  sudden  anguish,  start- 
ling all  who  heard,  and  even  Edward,  by  its  piteous  tones,  and 
the  form  of  a  page  suddenly  fell  prostrate  before  the  monarch. 
"  Mercy,  mercy  !  for  the  love  of  God,  have  mercy !"  he  strug- 
gled to  articulate,  but  there  was  no  sound  save  a  long  and 
piercing  shriek,  and  the  boy  lay  senseless  on  the  ground. 

"  Ha !  by  St.  George,  beardest  thou  me  with  traitors  in  my 
very  palace,  before  my  very  eyes  ?"  exclaimed  the  angry  mon- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  305 

arch,  as  his  astonished  courtiers  gathered  round.  "Put  him 
in  ward ;  away  with  him,  I  say  !" 

"  Pardon  me,  your  highness,  but  this  is  needless,"  interposed 
the  princess,  with  a  calm  majesty,  that  subdued  even  the  irri- 
tation of  her  father,  and  undauntedly  waving  back  the  cour- 
tiers, although  perfectly  sensible  of  the  imminent  danger  in 
which  she  was  placed.  "  If  there  be  blame,  let  it  be  visited  on 
me  ;  this  poor  child  has  been  ill  and  weakly  from  many  causes, 
terrified,  almost  maddened,  by  sounds,  and  sights  of  blood.  I 
deemed  him  perfectly  recovered,  or  he  had  not  attended  me 
here.  I  pray  your  grace  permit  his  removal  to  my  apartments." 

The  king  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  his  daughter's  arm  as  she 
stood  beside  him,  and  fixed  a  gaze  on  her  face  that  would  have 
terrified  any  less  noble  spirit  into  a  betrayal  of  the  truth  ;  but 
firm  in  her  own  integrity,  in  her  own  generous  purpose,  she 
calmly  and  inquiringly  returned  his  gaze. 

"  Go  to,  thou  art  a  noble  wench,  though  an  over-bold  and 
presuming  one,"  he  said,  in  a  much  mollified  tone,  for  there 
was  that  in  the  dauntless  behavior  of  his  daughter  which  found 
an  echo  in  his  heart  even  now,  deadened  as  it  was  to  aught  of 
gentle  feeling,  and  he  was  glad  of  this  interruption  to  entrea- 
ties which,  resolved  not  to  grant,  had  lashed  him  into  fury, 
while  her  presence  made  him  feel  strangely  ashamed.  "  Do  as 
thou  wilt  with  thine  own  attendants ;  but  be  advised,  tempt  not 
thine  own  safety  again  ;  thou  hast  tried  us  sore  with  thy  ill-ad- 
vised entreaties,  but  we  forgive  thee,  on  condition  they  are 
never  again  renewed.  Speak  not,  we  charge  thee.  What  ho ! 
Sir  Edmund  Stanley,"  he  called  aloud,  and  the  chamberlain 
appeared  at  the  summons.  "Here,  let  this  boy  be  carefully 
raised  and  borne  according  to  the  pjeasure  of  his  mistress. 
See,  too,  that  the  Countess  of  Gloucester  be  conducted  with 
due  respect  to  her  apartments.  Begone !"  he  added,  sternly, 
as  the  eyes  of  Joan  still  seemed  to  beseech  mercy  ;  "  I  will  hear 
no  more — the  traitor  dies !" 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE  shades  of  advancing  night  had  already  appeared  to  have 
enwrapped  the  earth  some  hours,  when  Nigel  Bruce  was  star- 


306  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUOE. 

tied  from  an  uneasy  slumber  by  the  creaking  sounds  of  bolts 
and  bars  announcing  the  entrance  of  some  one  within  the  dun- 
geon. The  name  of  his  beloved,  his  devoted  Agnes,  trembled 
on  his  lips,  but  fearful  of  betraying  her  to  unfriendly  ears,  he 
checked  himself,  and  started  up,  exclaiming,  "  Who  comes  ?" 
No  answer  was  vouchsafed,  but  the  dim  light  of  a  lamp,  placed 
by  the  intruder  on  the  floor,  disclosed  a  figure  wrapped  from 
head  to  foot  in  the  shrouding  mantle  of  the  time,  not  tall,  but 
appearing  a  stout  muscular  person,  banishing  on  the  instant 
Nigel's  scarcely-formed  hope  that  it  was  the  only  one  he  longed 
to  see. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  ?"  he  said,  after  a  brief  pause.  "  Doth 
Edward  practise  midnight  murder  ?  Speak,  who  art  thou  ?" 

"  Midnight  murder,  thou  boasting  fool ;  I  love  thee  not  well 
enough  to  cheat  the  hangman  of  his  prey,"  replied  a  harsh  and 
grating  voice,  which,  even  without  the  removal  of  the  cloak, 
would  have  revealed  to  Nigel's  astonished  ears  the  Earl  of 
Buchan.  "  Ha  !  I  have  startled  thee — thou  didst  not  know  the 
deadly  enemy  of  thy  accursed  race  !" 

"  I  know  thee  now,  my  Lord  of  Buchan,"  replied  the  young 
man,  calmly  ;  "  yet  know  I  not  wherefore  thou  art  here,  save 
to  triumph  over  the  fallen  fortunes  of  thy  foe  ;  if  so,  scorn  on 
— I  care  not.  A  few  brief  hours,  and  all  of  earth  and  earthly 
feeling  is  at  rest." 

"  To  triumph — scorn !  I  had  scarce  travelled  for  petty 
satisfaction  such  as  that,  when  to-morrow  sees  thee  in  the 
hangman's  hands,  the  scorn  of  thousands !  Hath  Buchan  no 
other  work  with  thee,  thinkest  thou  ?  dost  thou  affirm  thou 
knowest  naught  for  which  he  hath  good  cause  to  seek 
thee  ?" 

"  Earl  of  Buchan,  I  dare  affirm  it,"  answered  Nigel,  proudly ; 
"  I  know  of  naught  to  call  for  words  or  tones  as  these,  save, 
perchance,  that  the  love  and  deep  respect  in  which  I  hold  thine 
injured  countess,  my  friendship  for  thy  murdered  son,  hath 
widened  yet  more  the  breach  between  thy  house  and  mine — 
it  may  be  so  ;  yet  deem  not,  cruel  as  thou  art,  I  will  deny  feel- 
ings in  which  I  glory,  at  thy  bidding.  An  thou  comest  to  re- 
proach me  with  these  things,  rail  on,  they  affect  me  as  little  as 
thy  scorn." 

"  Hadst  thou  said  love  for  her  they  call  my  daughter,  thou 
hadst  been  nearer  the  mark,"  retorted  the  earl,  fury  rapidly 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  307 

gaining  possession  of  heart  and  voice  ;  "  but  thou  art  too  wise, 
too  politic  for  that." 

"  Aye,"  retorted  Nigel,  after  a  fearful  struggle  with  himself, 
"  aye,  thou  mayest  well  add  love  for  Agnes  of  Buchan,  as 
well  as  friendship  for  her  brother.  Thinkest  thou  I  would 
deny  it — hide  it  ?  little  dost  thou  know  its  thrilling,  its  inspir- 
ing power ;  little  canst  thou  know  how  I  glory  in  it,  cherish, 
linger  on  it  still.  But  wherefore  speak  thus  to  thee,  thou  man 
of  wickedness  and  blood.  I  love  thy  pure  and  spotless  child, 
rejoice  that  thou  didst  so  desert,  so  utterly  neglect  her,  that 
thou  couldst  no  more  leave  a  shadow  on  her  innocent  heart  than 
a  cloud  upon  her  way.  I  love  her,  glory  in  that  love,  and  what 
is  it  to  thee  ?" 

"  What  is  it  to  me  ?  that  a  child  of  the  house  of  Comyn  dare 
hold  commune  with  a  Bruce ;  that  thou  hast  dared  to  love  a 
daughter  of  my  house,  aye,  to  retain  her  by  thy.  side  a  willing 
mistress,  when  all  others  of  her  sex  forsook  thee — what  is  it  to 
me  ?  Did  not  to-morrow  give  thee  to  a  traitor's  doom,  thy 
blood  should  answer  thee  ;  but  as  it  is,  villain  and  slave,  give 
her  to  me — where  is  her  hiding-place  ?  speak,  or  the  torture 
shall  wring  it  from  thee." 

"  Thinkest  thou  such  threats  will  in  aught  avail  thee  ?" 
calmly  replied  Nigel.  "  Thou  knowest  not  the  Bruce.  Agnes 
is  no  longer  a  Comyn,  no  longer  a  subject  to  thy  guardianship. 
The  voice  of  God,  the  rites  at  the  altar's  foot,  have  broken  every 
link,  save  that  which  binds  her  to  her  husband.  She  is  mine, 
before  God  and  man  is  mine — mine  own  faithful  and  lawful 
wife  !" 

"  Thou  liest,  false  villain !"  furiously  retorted  Buchan.  "  The 
church  shall  undo  these  bonds,  shall  give  her  back  to  the  father 
she  has  thus  insulted.  She  shall  repent,  repent  with  tears  of 
blood,  her  desertion  of  her  race.  Canst  thou  protect  her  hi 
death,  thou  fool — canst  thou  still  cherish  and  save  her,  thinkest 
thou,  when  the  hangman  hath  done  his  work  ?" 

"  Aye,  even  then  she  will  be  cherished,  loved  for  Nigel's 
sake,  and  for  her  own ;  there  will  be  faithful  friends  around  her 
to  protect  her  from  thee  still,  tyrant !  Thou  canst  not  break 
the  bonds  that  bind  us ;  thou  hast  done  no  father's  part.  For- 
saken and  forgotten,  thy  children  owe  thee  no  duty,  no  obedi- 
ence ;  thou  canst  bring  forward  no  plea  to  persecute  thy  child. 
IP  life  and  in  death  she  is  mine,  mine  alone ;  the  power  and 


308  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

authority  thou  hast  spurned  so  long  can  no  longer  be  assumed ; 
the  love,  the  obedience  thou  didst  never  heed,  nay,  trampled 
on,  hath  been  transferred  to  one  who  glories  in  them  both. 
She  is  in  safety — slay,  torture  as  thou  wilt,  I  tell  thee  no  more." 
Fettered,  unarmed,  firm,  undauntedly  erect,  stood  Nigel  Bruce, 
gazing  with  curling  lip  and  flashing  eyes  upon  his  foe.  The 
foam  had  gathered  on  the  earl's  lip,  his  hand,  clenching  his 
sword,  had  trembled  with  passion  as  Nigel  spoke.  He  sought 
to  suppress  that  rage,  to  remember  a  public  execution  would 
revenge  him  infinitely  more  than  a  blow  of  his  sword,  but  he 
had  been  too  long  unused  to  control ;  lashed  into  ungovernable 
fury  by  the  demeanor  of  Nigel,  even  more  than  by  his  words, 
the  sword  flashed  from  its  scabbard,  was  raised,  and  fell — but 
not  iipon  his  foe,  for  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  suddenly  stood 
between  them, 

"  Art  thou  tnad,  or  tired  of  life,  my  Lord  of  Buchan  ?"  he 
said.  "  Knowest  thou  not  thou  art  amenable  to  the  law,  an  thou 
thus  deprivest  justice  of  her  victim  ?  Shame,  shame,  my  lord ; 
I  deemed  thee  not  a  midnight  murderer." 

"  Barest  thou  so  speak  to  me  ?"  replied  Buchan,  fiercely ; 
"  by  every  fiend  in  hell,  thou  shalt  answer  this !  Begone,  and 
meddle  not  with  that  which  concerneth  thee  nothing." 

"  It  doth  concern  me,  proud  earl,"  replied  Gloucester,  stand- 
ing immediately  before  Nigel,  whose  emotion  at  observing  the 
page  by  whom  he  was  accompanied,  though  momentary,  must 
otherwise  have  been  observed.  "  The  person  of  the  prisoner  is 
sacred  to  the  laws  of  his  country,  the  mandate  of  his  sovereign ; 
on  thy  life  thou  darest  not  injure  him — thou  knowest  that  thou 
darest  not.  Do  thou  begone,  ere  I  summon  those  who,  at  the 
mere  mention  of  assault  on  one  condemned,  will  keep  thee  hi 
ward  till  thou  canst  wreak  thy  vengeance  on  naught  but  clay ; 
begone,  I  say !" 

"I  will  not,"  sullenly  answered  the  earl,  unwillingly  con- 
scious of  the  truth  of  his  words  ;  "  I  will  not,  till  he  hath  an- 
swered me.  Once  more,"  he  added,  turning  to  Nigel  with  a 
demoniac  scowl,  "  where  is  she  whom  thou  hast  dared  to  call 
thy  wife  ?  answer  me,  or  as  there  is  a  hell  beneath  us,  the  tor- 
ture shall  wring  it  from  thee !" 

"  In  safety,  where  thine  arm  shall  never  reach  her,"  haughtily 
answered  the  young  nobleman.  "  Torture !  what  wilt  thou 
torture — the  senseless  clay  ?  Hence — I  defy  thee !  Death  will 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  309 

protect  me  from  thy  lawless  power ;  death  will  set  his  seal 
upon  me  ere  we  meet  again." 

The  earl  muttered  a  deep  and  terrible  oath,  and  then  he 
strode  away,  coming  in  such  violent  contact  against  the  slight 
and  almost  paralyzed  form  of  Gloucester's  page  as  he  stood  in 
the  doorway,  as  nearly  to  throw  him  to  the  ground.  Nigel 
sprung  forward,  but  was  held  back  with  a  grasp  of  iron  by  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester,  nor  did  he  relinquish  his  hold  till  Buchan 
had  passed  through  the  doorway,  till  the  heavy  hinges  had 
firmly  closed  again,  and  the  step  of  the  departing  earl  had  en- 
tirely faded  in  distance. 

"  Now,  then,  we  are  safe,"  he  said  ;  "  thank  heaven  !"  but 
his  words  were  scarcely  heard,  for  the  page  had  bounded  within 
the  extended  arms  of  Nigel,  had  clung  so  closely  to  his  heart, 
he  could  feel  nothing,  see  nothing,  save  that  slender  form ; 
could  hear  nothing  but  those  deep,  agonized  sobs,  which  are 
so  terrible  when  unaccompanied  by  the  relief  of  tears.  For 
a  while  Nigel  could  not  speak — he  could  not  utter  aught  of 
comfort,  for  he  felt  it  not ;  that  moment  was  the  bitterness  of 
death. 

"  Torture  !  did  he  not  speak  of  torture  ?  will  he  not  come 
again?"  were  the  words  that  at  length  fell,  shudderingly,  from 
the  lips  of  Agnes.  "  Nigel,  Nigel,  if  it  must  be,  give  me  up  ; 
he  cannot  inflict  aught  more  of  misery  now." 

"  Fear  not,  lady  ;  he  dare  not,"  hastily  rejoined  Gloucester. 
"  The  torture  dare  not  be  administered  without  consent  of  Ed- 
ward, and  that  now  cannot  be  obtained ;  he  will  not  have  suffi- 
cient— "  time,  he  was  going  to  say,  but  checked  himself ;  for 
the  agonized  look  of  Agnes  told  him  his  meaning  was  more 
than  sufficiently  understood.  "  Nigel,"  he  added,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  "  Nigel,  my  noble,  gallant 
friend — for  so  I  will  call  thee,  though  I  sat  in  judgment  on 
thee,  aye,  and  tacitly  acquiesced  in  thy  sentence— shrink  not, 
oh,  shrink  not  now !  I  saw  not  a  quiver  on  thy  lip,  a  pallor  on 
thy  cheek,  nay,  nor  faltering  in  thy  step,  when  they  read  a 
doom  at  which  I  have  marked  the  bravest  blench  ;  oh,  let  not 
that  noble  spirit  fail  thee  now !" 

"  Gloucester,  it  shall  not !"  he  said,  with  suddenly-regained 
firmness,  as  supporting  Agnes  with  his  right  arm  he  convul- 
sively wrung  the  hand  of  his  friend  with  the  other.  "  It  was 
but  the  sight  of  this  beloved  one,  the  thought — no  matter,  it  is 


310  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

over.  Agnes,  my  beloved,  my  own,  oh,  look  on  me !  speak, 
tell  me  all  that  hath  befallen  thee  since  they  tore  thee  from  me, 
and  filled  my  soul  with  darker  dread  for  thee  than  for  myself. 
To  see  thee  with  this  noble  earl  is  enough  to  know  how  heavy 
a  burden  of  gratitude  I  owe  him,  which  thou,  sweetest,  must 
discharge.  Yet  speak  to  me,  beloved  ;  tell  me  all,  all." 

Emulating  his  calmnesg,  remembering  even  at  that  moment 
her  promise  not  to  unman  him  in  the  moment  of  trial  by  vain 
repinings,  Agnes  complied  with  his  request.  Her  tale  was  fre- 
quently interrupted  by  those  terrible  sobs,  which  seemed  to 
threaten  annihilation ;  but  Nigel  could  gather  from  it  so  much 
of  tenderness  and  care  on  the  part  of  the  princess,  that  the 
deepest  gratitude  filled  his  heart,  and  spoke  in  his  impassioned 
words. 

"  Tell  her,  oh,  tell  her,  if  the  prayers  of  the  dying  can  in 
aught  avail  her,  the  blessedness  of  heaven  shall  be  hers  even 
upon  earth  !"  he  exclaimed,  gazing  up  in  the  earl's  face  with 
eyes  that  spoke  his  soul.  "  Oh,  I  knew  her  not,  when  in 
former  years  I  did  but  return  her  kindness  with  silence  and  re- 
serve ;  I  saw  in  her  little  more  than  the  daughter  of  Edward. 
Tell  her,  on  my  knees  I  beseech  her  pardon  for  that  wrong ; 
in  my  last  prayers  I  shall  breathe  her  name." 

"  And  wherefore  didst  thou  go  with  her  ?"  he  continued,  on 
Agnes  narrating  the  scene  between  the  princess  and  the  king. 
"  Alas !  my  gentle  one,  hadst  thou  not  endured  enough,  that 
thou  wouldst  harrow  up  thy  soul  by  hearing  the  confirmation 
of  my  doom  from  the  tyrant's  own  ruthless  lips — didst  dream 
of  pardon  ?  dearest,  no,  thou  couldst  not." 

"  Nigel,  Nigel,  I  did,  even  at  that  moment,  though  they 
told  me  thou  wert  condemned,  that  nothing  could  save  thee ; 
though  the  princess  besought  me  almost  on  her  knees  to  spare 
myself  this  useless  trial,  I  would  not  listen  to  her.  I  would 
not  believe  that  all  was  hopeless  ;  I  dreamed  still,  still  of  par- 
don, that  Edward  would  listen  to  his  noble  child,  would  forgive, 
and  I  thought,  even  if  she  "failed,  I  would  so  plead  he  must 
have  mercy,  he  would  listen  to  me  and  grant  my  prayer.  I 
did  dream  of  pardon,  but  it  was  vain,  vain!  Nigel,  Nigel, 
why  did  my  voice  fail,  my  eye  grow  dim  ?  I  might  have  won 
thy  pardon  yet." 

"  Beloved,  thou  couldst  not,"  he  answered,  mournfully. 
"  Mine  own  sweet  Agnes,  take  comfort,  'tis  but  a  brief  fare- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BBUCE.  311 

well ;  we  shall  meet  where  war  and  blood  and  death  can  never 
enter  more." 

"  I  know  it,. oh,  I  know  it,"  she  sobbed  ;  "  but  to  part  thus, 
to  lose  thee,  and  by  such  a  death,  oh,  it  is  horrible,  most  hor- 
rible !" 

"  Nay,  look  not  on  it  thus,  beloved  ;  there  is  no  shame  even 
in  this  death,  if  there  be  no  shame  in  him  who  dies." 

"  Shame  !"  she  repeated  ;  "  coiildst  think  I  could  couple 
aught  of  shame  with  thee,  my  own  ?  even  this  dark  fate  is 
noble  when  borne  by  such  as  thee." 

Nigel  held  her  closer  to  his  heart,  and  for  his  sole  answer 
pressed  a  quivering  kiss  upon  her  cheek.  Gloucester,  who  had 
been  in  earnest  commune  with  the  sentinel  without  the  door, 
now  returned,  and  informed  him  that  the  soldier,  who  was  well 
known  to  him  and  who  much  disliked  his  present  watch,  had 
willingly  consented  that  the  page  (whom  Gloucester  had  repre- 
sented as  a  former  attendant  of  Sir  Nigel's,  though  now  trans- 
ferred to  his  service)  should  remain  with  his  former  master,  on 
condition  that  the  earl  would  come  for  him  before  the  priests 
and  others  who  were  to  attend  him  to  the  scaffold  entered  the 
dungeon,  as  this  departure  from  the  regular  prison  discipline, 
shown  as  it  was  to  one  against  whom  the  king  was  unusually 
irritated,  might  cost  him  his  head.  Gloucester  had  promised 
faithfully,  and  he  offered  them  the  melancholy  option  of  part- 
ing now,  or  a  few  sad  hours  hence. 

"  Let  me,  do  let  me  stay  ;  Nigel,  my  husband,  send  me  not 
from  thee  now!"  exclaimed  Agnes,  sinking  at  his  feet  and 
clasping  his  knees.  "  I  will  not  weep,  nor  moan,  nor  in  aught 
afflict  thee.  Nigel,  dearest  Nigel,  I  will  not  leave  thee  now." 

"  But  is  it  wise,  is  it  well,  my  best  beloved  ?  think,  if  in  the 
deep  anguish  of  to-morrow  thy  disguise  be  penetrated,  thy 
sex  discovered,  and  thy  cruel  father  claim  thee,  dragging  thee 
even  from  the  protection  of  the  princess — oh,  the  bitterness  of 
death  were  doubled  then!  Thou  thinkest  but  of  me,  mine 
own,  but  thy  safety,  thy  future  peace  is  all  now  left  for  me." 

"  Safety,  peace — oh,  do  not,  do  not  mock  me,  Nigel — where 
are  they  for  poor  Agnes,  save  in  her  husband's  grave  ?  What 
is  life  now,  that  thou  shouldst  seek  to  guard  it  ?  no,  no,  I  will 
abide  by  thee,  thou  shalt  not  send  me  hence." 

"  But  to-morrow,  lady,  to-morrow,"  interposed  Gloucester, 
with  deep  commiseration.  "  I  would  not,  from  any  selfish 


312  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

fear,  shorten  by  one  minute  the  few  sad  hours  ye  may  yet  pass 
together,  but  bethink  ye,  I  dare  not  promise  to  shield  thee 
from  the  horrors  of  to-morrow,  for  I  cannot.  Fearful  scenes 
and  sounds  may  pass  before  thee  ;  thou  mayest  come  in  con- 
tact with  men  from  whom  thou  wilt  shrink  in  horror,  and 
though  thine  own  safety  be  of  little  worth,  remember  the  be- 
trayal of  thy  sex  and  rank  may  hurl  down  the  royal  vengeance 
on  the  head  of  thy  protectress,  daughter  of  Edward  though 
she  be.  Canst  thou  be  firm — wilt  thou,  canst  thou  await  the 
morrow?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Agnes,  the  wildness  of  her  former  accents 
subsiding  into  almost  solemnity ;  "  the  safety  of  thy  noble 
countess  shall  not  be  hazarded  through  me.  Leave  me  with 
my  husband,  add  but  this  last  mercy  to  the  many  thou  hast 
showered  on  me,  and  the  blessing  of  God  will  rest  on  thee  and 
thy  noble  wife  forever." 

She  raised  his  hand  to  her  lips,  and  Gloucester,  much  af- 
fected, placed  hers  in  her  husband's,  and  wrung  them  convul- 
sively together.  "  We  shall  meet  again,"  was  all  he  trusted 
his  voice  to  utter,  and  departed. 

The  hours  waned,  each  one  finding  no  change  in  the  position 
of  those  loving  ones.  The  arm  of  Agnes  twined  around  the 
neck  of  her  beloved,  her  brow  leaned  against  his  bosom,  her 
left  hand  clasped  his  right,  and  his  left  arm,  though  fettered, 
could  yet  fold  that  slender  waist,  could  yet  draw  her  closer  to 
him,  with  an  almost  unconscious  pressure  ;  his  lips  repeatedly 
pressed  that  pale  brow,  which .  only  moved  from  its  position  to 
lift  up  her  eyes  at  his  entreaty  in  his  face,  and  he  would  look 
on  those  features,  lovely  still,  despite  their  attenuation  and  deep 
sorrow,  gaze  at  them  with  an  expression  that,  spite  of  his 
words  of  consoling  love,  betrayed  that  the  dream  of  earth  yet 
lingered  ;  he  could  not  "close  his  eyes  on  her  without  a  thrill  of 
agony,  sharper  than  the  pang  of  death.  But  the  enthusiast 
and  the  patriot  spoke  not  at  that  hour  only  of  himself,  or  that 
dearer  self,  the  only  being  he  had  loved.  He  spoke  of  his 
country,  aye,  and  less  deplored  the  chains  which  bound  her 
then,  than  with  that  prophetic  spirit  sometimes  granted  to  the 
departing,  dilated  on  her  future  glory.  He  conjured  Agnes, 
for  his  sake,  to  struggle  on  and  live  ;  to  seek  his  brother  and 
tell  him  that,  save  herself,  Nigel's  last  thought,  last  prayer  was 
his  ;  that  standing  on  the  brink  of  eternity,  the  mists  of  the 


TIIE   DATS   OF   BRUCE.  313 

present  had  rolled  away,  he  saw  but  the  future — Scotland  free, 
and  Robert  her  beloved  and  mighty  king. 

"  Bid  him  not  mourn  for  Nigel,"  he  said  ;  "  bid  him  not  wa- 
ver from  his  glorious  purpose,  because  so  many  of  his  loved  and 
noble  friends  must  fall — their  blood  is  their  country's  ransom ; 
tell  him,  had  I  a  hundred  lives,  I  would  have  laid  them  down 
for  him  and  for  my  country  as  gladly,  as  unhesitatingly  as  the 
one  I  now  resign ;  and  tell  him,  dearest,  how  I  loved  him  to 
the  last,  how  the  recollection  of  his  last  farewell,  his  fervent 
blessing  lingered  with  me  to  the  end,  giving  me  strength  to  strive 
for  him  and  die,  as  becomes  his  brother ;  tell  him  I  glory  in  my 
death — it  has  no  shame,  no  terror,  for  it  is  for  him  and  Scot- 
land. Wilt  thou  remember  all  this,  sweet  love  ?  wilt  thou 
speak  to  him  these  words  ?" 

"  Trust  me  I  will,  all,  all  that  thou  hast  said  ;  they  are  writ- 
ten here,"  placing  her  hand  on  her  heart,  "  here,  and  they  will 
not  leave  me,  even  if  all  else  fail." 

"  And  thou  wilt  say  to  him,  mine  own,  that  Nigel  besought 
his  love,  his  tenderness  for  thee,"  he  continued,  losing  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  patriot  in  the  tenderness  of  the  husband  ;  "  tell 
him  I  look  to  him  in  part  to  discharge  the  debt  of  love,  of  grat- 
itude I  owe  to  thee ;  to  guard  thee,  cherish  thee  as  his  own 
child.  Alas !  alas !  I  speak  as  if  thou  must  reach  him,  and 
yet,  beset  with  danger,  misery,  as  thou  art,  how  may  this  be  ?" 

"  Fear  not  for  me  ;  it  shall  be,  my  husband.  I  will  do  thy 
bidding,  I  will  seek  my  king,"  she  said,  for  when  comfort  failed 
for  him,  she  sought  to  give  it.  "  Hast  forgotten  Dennid's 
words  ?  He  would  be  near  me  when  I  needed  him,  and  he 
will  be,  my  beloved,  I  doubt  him  not." 

"  Could  I  but  think  so,  could  I  but  know  that  he  would  be 
near  to  shield  thee,  oh,  life's  last  care  would  be  at  an  end," 
said  Nigel,  earnestly  ;  and  then  for  some  time  that  silence,  more 
eloquent,  more  fraught  with  feeling  in  such  an  hour  than  the 
most  impassioned  words,  fell  on  them  both.  When  again  he 
spoke,  it  was  on  a  yet  more  holy  theme ;  the  thoughts,  the 
dreams  of  heaven,  which  from  boyhood  had  been  his,  now 
found  vent  in  words  and  tones,  which  thrilled  to  the  inmost 
spirit  of  his  listener,  and  lingered  there,  when  all  other  sense 
had  fled.  He  had  lived  in  an  era  of  darkness.  Revelation  in 
its  doctrines  belonged  to  the  priests  alone  ;  faith  and  obedience 
demanded  by  the  voice  of  man  alone,  were  all  permitted  to  the 

14 


314  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

laity,  and  spirits  like  Nigel's  consequently  formed  a  natural  re- 
ligion, in  which  they  lived  and  breathed,  hallowing  the  rites 
which  they  practised,  giving  scope  and  glory  to  their  faith. 
He  pictured  the  world,  on  whose  threshold  he  now  stood,  pic- 
tured it,  not  with  a  bold  unhallowed  hand,  but  as  the  comple- 
tion, the  consummation  of  all  those  dim  whisperings  of  joy, 
and  hope,  and  wisdom,  which  had  engrossed  him  below — the 
perfection  of  that  beauty,  that  loveliness,  in  the  material  and 
immaterial,  he  had  yearned  for  in  vain  on  earth. 

"  And  this  world  of  incomparable  unshadowed  loveliness 
awaits  me,"  he  said,  the  superstition  of  the  age  mingling  for 
the  moment  with  thoughts  which  seemed  to  mark  him  a  cen- 
tury beyond  his  compeers  ;  "  purchased  by  that  single  moment 
of  suffering  called  death.  It  is  mine,  my  beloved,  and  shall  be 
thine  ;  and  oh,  when  we  meet  there,  how  trivial  will  seem  the 
dark  woes  and  boding  cares  of  earth  !  I  have  told  thee  the 
vision  of  my  vigil,  Agnes,  my  beloved ;  again  I  have  seen  that 
blessed  spirit,  aye,  and  there  was  no  more  sadness  on  his  pale 
brow,  naught,  naught  of  earth — spiritualized,  etherealized.  He 
hovered  over  my  sleep,  and  with  a  smile  beckoned  me  to  the 
glorious  world  he  inhabits  ;  he  seemed  to  call  me,  to  await  me, 
and  then  the  shrouding  clouds  on  which  he  lay  closed  thicker 
and  thicker  round  him,  till  naught  but  his  celestial  features 
beamed  on  me.  Agnes,  dearest,  best,  think  of  me  thus,  as 
blessed  eternally,  unchangeably,  as  awaiting  thee  to  share  that 
blessedness,  not  as  one  lost  to  thee,  beloved ;  and  peace,  aye, 
joy  e'en  yet  shall  smile  for  thee." 

"  Nigel,  Nigel,  are  there  such  things  for  the  desolate,  the 
lone  ?"  murmured  Agnes,  raising  her  pale  brow  and  looking 
despairingly  in  his  face.  "  Oh,  I  will  think  on  thee,  picture 
thee  in  thy  thrice-glorified  home,  but  it  will  be  with  all  of 
mortal  clinging  to  me  still,  and  the  wild  yearnings  to  come  to 
thee  will  banish  all  of  peace.  Speak  not  such  words  to  thy 
poor  weak  Agnes,  my  beloved.  I  will  struggle  on  to  bear  thy 
message  to  my  sovereign  ;  there  lies  my  path  when  thou  art 
gone,  darkness  envelops  it  when  that  goal  is  gained — I  have  no 
future  now,  save  that  which  gives  me  back  to  thee." 

He  could  not  answer,  and  then  again  there  was  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  low  voice  of  prayer.  They  knelt  together 
on  the  cold  stones,  he  raised  her  cold  hands  with  his  in  suppli- 
cation ;  he  prayed  for  mercy,  pardon  for  himself,  for  comfort, 


THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE.  315 

strength  for  her ;  he  prayed  for  his  country  and  her  king,  her 
chained  and  sorrowing  sons,  and  the  soft,  liquid  star  of  morn- 
ing, gleaming  forth  through  heavy  masses  of  murky  clouds 
directly  on  them  as  they  knelt,  appeared  an  angel's  answer. 
The  dawn  broke  ;  bluer  and  bluer  became  the  small  and  heav- 
ily-barred casement,  clearer  and  clearer  grew  the  damp  walls 
of  the  dungeons,  and  morning,  in  its  sunshine  and  gladness, 
laughed  along  the  earth.  Closer  and  closer  did  Agnes  cling 
to  that  noble  heart,  but  she  spoke  no  word.  "  He  tarries  long 
— merciful  heaven,  grant  he  be  not  detained  too  late !"  she 
heard  her  husband  murmur,  as  to  himself,  as  time  waned  and 
Gloucester  came  not,  and  she  guessed  his  thoughts. 

"  I  care  not,"  she  answered,  in  a  voice  so  hollow  he  shud- 
dered ;  "  I  will  go  with  thee,  even  to  the  scaffold." 

But  Gloucester,  true  to  his  promise,  came  at  length ;  he  was 
evidently  anxious  and  disturbed,  and  a  few  hurried  words  told 
how  the  Earl  of  Berwick  had  detained  him  in  idle  converse,  as 
if  determined  to  prevent  any  private  interview  with  the  pris- 
oner ;  even  now  the  officers  and  priests  were  advancing  to  the 
dungeons,  their  steps  already  reverberated  through  the  pas- 
sages, and  struck  on  the  heart  of  Agnes  as  a  bolt  of  ice.  "  I 
had  much,  much  I  wished  to  say,  but  even  had  I  time,  what 
boots  it  now  ?  Nigel,  worthy  brother  of  him  I  so  dearly  loved, 
aye,  even  now  would  die  to  serve,  fear  not  for  the  treasure  thou 
leavest  to  my  care ;  as  there  is  a  God  above  us,  I  will  guard 
her  as  my  sister!  They  come — farewell,  thou  noble  heart, 
thou  wilt  leave  many  a  foe  to  mourn  thee !"  The  voice  of  the 
earl  quivered  with  emotion.  Nigel  convulsively  pressed  his 
extended  hand,  and  then  he  folded  Agnes  in  his  arms  ;  he 
kissed  her  lips,  her  brow,  her  cheek,  he  parted  those  cluster- 
ing curls  to  look  again  and  yet  again  upon  her  face — pale, 
rigid  as  sculptured  marble.  She  uttered  no  sound,  she 
made  no  movement,  but  consciousness  had  not  departed  ;  the 
words  of  Gloucester  on  the  previous  night  rung  in  her  ears, 
demanding  control,  and  mechanically  she  let  her  arms  unloose 
their  convulsive  grasp  of  Nigel,  and  permitted  the  earl  gently 
to  lead  her  to  the  door,  but  ere  it  opened,  she  turned  again  to 
look  on  Nigel.  He  stood,  his  hands  clasped  in  that  convulsive 
pressure  of  agony,  his  every  feature  working  with  the  mighty 
effort  at  control  with  the  last  struggle  of  the  mortal  shell. 
With  one  faint  yet  thrilling  cry  she  bounded  back,  she  threw 


316  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUOE. 

herself  upon  his  swelling  bosom,  her  lips  met  his  in  one  last 
lingering  kiss,  and  Gloucester  tore  her  from  his  arms.  They 
passed  the  threshold,  another  minute  and  the  officers,  and 
guard,  and  priest  stood  within  the  dungeon,  and  a  harsh,  rude 
voice  bade  the  confessor  haste  to  shrive  the  prisoner,  for  the 
hour  of  execution  was  at  hand. 

Bearing  the  slight  form  of  the  supposed  page  in  his  arms, 
Gloucester  hastily  threaded  the  passages  leading  from  the  dun- 
geon to  the  postern  by  which  he  had  intended  to  depart.  His 
plan  had  been  to  rejoin  his  attendants  and  turn  his  back  upon 
the  city  of  Berwick  ere  the  execution  could  take  place  ;  a  plan 
which,  from  his  detention,  he  already  found  was  futile.  The 
postern  was  closed  and  secured,  and  he  was  compelled  to  re- 
trace his  steps  to  a  gate  he  had  wished  most  particularly  to 
avoid,  knowing  that  it  opened  on  a  part  of  the  court  which, 
from  its  commanding  a  view  of  the  scaffold,  he  justly  feared 
would  be  crowded.  He  had  paused  but  to  speak  one  word  of 
encouragement  to  Agnes,  who,  with  a  calmness  appalling  from 
the  rigidity  of  feature  which  accompanied  it,  now  stood  at  his 
side ;  he  bade  her  only  hold  by  his  cloak,  and  he  hoped  speed- 
ily to  lead  her  to  a  place  of  safety.  She  heard  him  and  made 
a  sign  of  obedience.  They  passed  the  gate  unquestioned,  trav- 
ersed an  inner  court,  and  made  for  the  great  entrance  of  the 
castle ;  there,  unhappily,  their  progress  was  impeded.  The 
scaffold,  by  order  of  Edward,  had  been  erected  on  the  summit 
of  a  small  green  ascent  exactly  opposite  the  prison  of  the 
Countess  of  Buchan,  and  extending  in  a  direct  line  about  half 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  right  of  the  castle  gates,  which  had 
been  flung  wide  open,  that  all  the  inhabitants  of  Berwick  might 
witness  the  death  of  a  traitor.  Already  the  courts  and  every 
vacant  space  was  crowded.  A  sea  of  human  heads  was  alone 
visible,  nay,  the  very  buttresses  and  some  pinnacles  of  the 
castle,  which  admitted  any  footing,  although  of  the  most  pre- 
carious kind,  had  been  appropriated.  The  youth,  the  extraor- 
dinary beauty,  and  daring  conduct  of  the  prisoner  had  excited 
an  unusual  sensation  in  the  town,  and  the  desire  to  mark  how 
such  a  spirit  would  meet  his  fate  became  irresistibly  intense. 
Already  it  seemed  as  if  there  could  be  no  space  for  more,  yet 
numbers  were  still  pouring  in,  not  only  most  completely  frus- 
trating the  intentions  of  the  Earl  of  Gloucester,  but  forcing  him, 
by  the  pressure  of  multitudes,  with  them  towards  the  scaffold. 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCK.  317 

In  vain  he  struggled  to  free  himself  a  passage ;  in  vain  he 
haughtily  declared  his  rank  and  bade  the  presumptuous  serfs 
give  way.  Some,  indeed,  fell  back,  but  uselessly,  for  the 
crowds  behind  pushed  on  those  before,  and  there  was  no  re- 
treating, no  possible  means  of  escaping  from  that  sight  of  hor- 
ror which  Gloucester  had  designed  so  completely  to  avoid. 
In  the  agony  of  disappointment,  not  a  little  mixed  with  terror 
as  to  its  effects,  he  looked  on  his  companion.  There  was  not 
a  particle  of  change  upon  her  countenance ;  lips,  cheek,  brow, 
were  indeed  bloodless  as  marble,  and  as  coldly  still ;  her  eyes 
were  fascinated  on  the  scaffold,  and  they  moved  not,  quivered 
not.  Even  when  the  figure  of  an  aged  minstrel,  in  the  garb  of 
Scotland,  suddenly  stood  between  them  and  the  dread  object 
of  their  gaze,  their  expression  changed  not ;  she  placed  her 
hand  in  his,  she  spoke  his  name  to  her  conductor,  but  it  was  as 
if  a  statue  was  suddenly  endowed  with  voice  and  motion,  so 
cold  was  the  touch  of  that  hand,  so  sepulchral  was  that  voice ; 
she  motioned  him  aside  with  a  gesture  that  compelled  obedi- 
ence, and  again  she  looked  upon  the  scaffold.  The  earl  wel- 
comed the  old  man  gladly,  for  the  tale  of  Agnes  had  already 
prepared  him  to  receive  him,  and  to  rely  on  his  care  to  convey 
her  back  to  Scotland.  Engrossed  with  his  anxiety  for  her,  and 
whenever  that  permitted  him,  speaking  earnestly  to  the  old 
man,  Gloucester  remained  wholly  unconscious  of  the  close  vicin- 
ity of  one  he  was  at  that  moment  most  desirous  to  avoid. 

The  Earl  of  Buchan,  in  the  moment  of  ungovernable  rage, 
had  indeed  flung  himself  on  horseback  and  galloped  from  the 
castle  the  preceding  night,  intending  to  seek  the  king,  and  pe- 
tition that  the  execution  might  be  deferred  till  the  torture  had 
dragged  the  retreat  of  Agnes  from  Nigel's  lips.  The  cool  air 
of  night,  however,  had  had  the  effect  of  so  far  dissipating  the 
fumes  of  passion,  as  to  convince  him  that  it  would  be  well-nigh 
impossible  to  reach  Carlisle,  obtain  an  interview  with  Edward 
at  such  an  unseasonable  hour,  and  return  to  Berwick  in  sufficient 
time  for  the  execution  of  his  diabolical  scheme.  He  let  the 
reins  fall  on  his  horse's  neck,  to  ponder,  and  finally  made  up 
his  mind  it  was  better  to  let  things  take  their  course,  and  the 
sentence  of  the  prisoner  proceed  without  interruption  ;  a  deter- 
mination hastened  by  the  thought  that  should  he  die  under  the 
torture,  all  the  ignominy  and  miseiy  of  a  public  execution 
would  be  eluded.  The  night  was  very  dark  and  misty,  the 


318  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

road  in  some  parts  passing  through  woods  and  morasses,  and 
the  earl,  too  much  engrossed  with  his  own  dark  thoughts  to 
attend  to  his  path,  lost  the  track  and  wandered  round  and 
round,  instead  of  going  forward.  This  heightened  not  the 
amiability  of  his  previous  mood  ;  but  until  dawn  his  efforts  to 
retrace  his  steps  or  even  discover  were  he  was  were  useless. 
The  morning,  however,  enabled  him  to  reach  Berwick,  which 
he  did  just  as  the  crowds  were  pouring  into  the  castle-yard, 
and  the  heavy  toll  of  the  bell  announced  the  commencement  of 
that  fatal  tragedy.  He  hastily  dismounted  and  mingled  with 
the  populace,  they  bore  him  onward  through  another  postern 
to  that  by  which  the  other  crowds  had  impelled  Gloucester. 
Finding  the  space  before  them  already  occupied,  these  two 
human  streams,  of  course,  met  and  conjoined  in  the  centre ; 
and  the  two  earls  stood  side  by  side.  Gloucester,  as  we  have 
said,  wholly  unconscious  of  Buchan's  vicinity,  and  Buchan 
watching  his  anxious  and  sorrowful  looks  with  the  satisfaction 
of  a  fiend,  revelling  in  his  being  thus  hemmed  in  on  all  sides, 
and  compelled  to  witness  the  execution  of  his  friend.  He 
watched  him  closely  as  he  spoke  with  the  minstrel,  but  tried 
in  vain  to  distinguish  what  they  said.  He  looked  on  the  page 
too,  and  with  some  degree  of  wonder,  though  he  believed  it 
only  mortal  terror  which  made  him  look  thus,  natural  in  so 
young  a  child ;  but  afterwards  that  look  was  only  too  fatally 
recalled. 

Sleepless  and  sad  had  been  that  long  night  to  another  inmate 
of  Berwick  Castle,  as  well  as  to  Nigel  and  his  Agnes.  It  was 
not  till  the  dawn  had  broken  that  the  Countess  of  Buchan  had 
sunk  into  a  deep  though  troubled  slumber,  for  it  was  not  till 
then  the  confused  sounds  of  the  workmen  employed  in  erect- 
ing the  scaffold  had  ceased.  She  knew  not  for  whom  it  was 
upraised,  what  noble  friend  and  gallant  patriot  would  there  be 
sacrificed.  She  would  not,  could  not  believe  it  was  for  Nigel ; 
for  when  his  name  arose  in  her  thoughts,  it  was  shudderingly 
repelled,  and  with  him  came  the  thought  of  her  child — where, 
oh,  where  was  she  ? — what  would  be  her  fate  ?  The  tolling 
of  the  bell  awoke  her  from  the  brief  trance  of  utter  unconscious- 
ness into  which,  from  exhaustion,  she  had  fallen.  She  glanced 
once  beneath  her.  The  crowds,  the  executioner  at  his  post, 
the  guard  already  round  the  scaffold,  too  truly  told  the  hour 
was  at  hand,  and  though  her  heart  turned  sick  with  apprehen- 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  319 

sion,  and  she  felt  as  if  to  know  the  worst  were  preferable  to 
the  hour  of  suspense,  she  could  not  look  again,  and  she  would 
have  sought  the  inner  chamber,  and  endeavor  to  close  both 
ears  and  eyes  to  all  that  was  passing  without,  when  the  Earl 
of  Berwick  suddenly  entered,  and  harshly  commanded  her  to 
stir  not  from  the  cage. 

"  It  is  your  sovereign's  will,  madam,  that  you  witness  the 
fate  of  the  traitor  so  daring  in  your  cause,"  he  said,  as  with  a 
stern  grasp  he  forced  her  to  the  grating  and  retained  his  hold 
upon  her  arm  ;  "  that  you  may  behold  in  his  deserved  fate  the 
type  of  that  which  will  at  length  befall  the  yet  blacker  traitor 
of  his  name.  It  is  fitting  so  loyal  a  patriot  as  thyself  should 
look  on  a  patriot's  fate,  and  profit  thereby." 

"  Aye,  learn  how  a  patriot  can  die — how,  when  his  life  may 
no  more  benefit  his  country  and  his  kin,  he  may  serve  them  in 
his  death,"  calmly  and  proudly  she  answered.  "  It  is  well ; 
perchance,  when  my  turn  cometh,  I  may  thank  thy  master  for 
the  lesson  now  rudely  forced  upon  me.  The  hour  will  come 
when  the  blood  that  he  now  so  unjustly  sheds  shall  shriek 
aloud  for  vengeance.  On  me  let  him  work  his  will — I  fear 
him  not." 

"  Be  silent,  minion  !  I  listen  not  to  thy  foul  treason,"  said  the 
earl,  hoarse  with  suppressed  passion  at  the  little  effect  his  sov- 
ereign's mandate  produced,  when  he  had  hoped  to  have  en- 
forced it  midst  sobs  and  tears  ;  and  she  was  silent,  for  her  eye 
had  caught  one  face  amidst  the  crowd  that  fascinated  its  gaze, 
and  sent  back  the  blood,  which  had  seemed^  to  stagnate  when 
the  idea  that  it  was  indeed  Nigel  now  about  to  suffer  had  been 
thus  rudely  thrust  upon  her — sent  it  with  such  sudden  revulsion 
through  its  varied  channels,  that  it  was  only  with  a  desperate 
struggle  she  retained  her  outward  calmness,  and  then  she  stood, 
to  the  eye  of  Berwick,  proud,  dignified,  collected,  seemingly  so 
cold,  that  he  doubted  whether  aught  of  feeling  could  remain, 
or  marvelled  if  the  mandate  of  Edward  had  indeed  power  to 
inflict  aught  of  pain.  But  within — oh,  the  veriest  tyrant  must 
have  shuddered,  could  he  have  known  the  torture  there ;  she 
saw,  she  recognized  her  child ;  she  read  naught  but  madness 
in  that  chiselled  gaze  ;  she  saw  at  a  glance  there  was  no  escap- 
ing from  beholding,  to  the  dreadful  end,  the  fate  of  her  be- 
loved ;  before,  behind,  on  every  side,  the  crowds  pressed  round, 
yet  from  the  slightly  elevated  position  of  the  scaffold,  failing 


320  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

to  conceal  it  from  her  gaze.  The  Earl  of  Gloucester  she  per- 
ceived close  at  her  side,  as  if  protecting  her ;  but  if  indeed  she 
was  under  his  care,  how  came  she  on  s-uch  a  spot,  at  such  a 
time  ? — did  he  know  her  sex,  or  only  looked  on  her  a^  a  favored 
page  of  Nigel's,  and  as  such  protected  ?  Yet  would  not  the 
anguish  of  that  hour  betray  her  not  alone  to  him,  but  to  that 
dark  and  cruel  man  whom  she  also  marked  beside  her,  and 
who,  did  he  once  know  her,  would  demand  the  right  of  a 
father,  to  give  her  to  his  care  ?  and  oh,  how  would  that  right 
be  exercised !  would  the  murderer  of  his  son,  his  heir,  have 
pity  on  a  daughter  ?  But  it  would  be  a  vain  effort  to  picture 
the  deep  anguish  of  that  mother's  heart,  as  in  that  dread  mo- 
ment she  looked  upon  her  child,  knowing,  feeling  her  might  of 
grief,  as  if  it  had  been  her  own ;  well-nigh  suffocated  with  the 
wild  yearning  to  fold  her  to  her  maternal  bosom,  to  bid  her 
weep  there,  to  seek  to  comfort,  to  soothe,  by  mingling  her  tears 
with  hers,  to  protect,  to  hide  her  misery  from  all  save  her 
mother's  eye — to  feel  this  till  every  pulse  throbbed  as  to 
threaten  her  with  death,  and  yet  to  breathe  no  word,  to  give 
no  sign  that  such  things  were,  lest  she  should  endanger  that 
precious  one  yet  more.  She  dared  not  breathe  one  question  of 
the  many  crowding  on  her  heart,  she  could  but  gaze  and  feel. 
She  had  thought,  when  they  told  her  that  her  boy  was  dead, 
that  she  had  caused  his  death,  there  was  little  more  of  misery 
fate  could  weave,  but  at  that  moment  even  Alan  was  forgot- 
ten. It  was  her  own  wretchedness  she  had  had  then  to  bear, 
for  he  was  at  rest ;  but  now  it  was  the  anguish  of  that  dearer 
self,  her  sole  remaining  child — and  oh,  a  mother's  heart  can 
better  bear  its  individual  woes  than  those  that  crush  a  daughter 
to  the  earth. 

A  sudden  rush  amidst  the  crowd,  where  a  movement  could 
take  place,  the  heavy  roll  of  muffled  drums,  and  the  yet  deep- 
er, more  wailing  toll  of  the  funeral  bell,  announced  that  the 
prisoner  had  left  the  dungeon,  and  irresistibly  the  gaze  of  the 
countess  turned  from  her  child  to  seek  him  ;  perchance  it  was 
well,  for  the  preservation  of  her  composure,  that  the  inter- 
vening crowd  prevented  her  beholding  him  till  he  stood  upon 
the  scaffold,  for  hardly  could  she  have  borne  unmoved  the 
sight  of  that  noble  and  gallant  form — beloved  alike  as  the 
friend  of  her  son,  the  betrothed  of  her  daughter,  the  brother 
of  her  king — degraded  of  all  insignia  of  rank,  chained  to  the 


THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  321 

hurdle,  and  dragged  as  the  commonest,  the  vilest  criminal,  ex- 
posed to  the  mocking  gaze  of  thousands,  to  the  place  of  execu- 
tion. She  saw  him  not  thus,  and  therefore  she  knew  not 
wherefore  the  features  of  Agnes  had  become  yet  more  rigid, 
bore  yet  more  the  semblance  of  chiselled  marble.  He  stood 
at  length  upon  the  scaffold,  as  calmly  majestic  in  his  bearing 
as  if  he  had  borne  no  insult,  suffered  no  indignity.  His  beauti- 
ful hair  had  been  arranged  with  care  on  either  side  his  face, 
and  still  fell  in  its  long,  rich  curls,  about  his  throat;  and  so 
beautiful,  so  holy  was  the  expression  of  his  perfect  features, 
that  the  assembled  crowds  hushed  their  very  breath  in  admira- 
tion and  in  awe  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  heaven,  on  whose  threshold 
he  stood,  had  already  fixed  its  impress  on  his  broV.  Every 
eye  was  upon  him,  and  all  perceived  that  holy  calmness  was 
for  one  brief  minute  disturbed ;  but  none,  save  three  of  those 
who  marked  it,  knew  or  even  guessed  the  cause.  The  count- 
ess had  watched  his  glance,  as  at  first  composedly  it  had  wan- 
dered over  the  multitude  beneath  and  around  him,  and  she  saw 
it  rest  on  that  one  face,  which,  in  its  sculptured  misery,  stood 
alone  amidst  thousands,  and  she  alone  perceived  the  start  of 
agony  that  sight  occasioned,  but  speedily  even  that  emotion 
passed;  he  looked  from  that  loved  face  up  to  the  heaven  on 
which  his  hopes  were  fixed,  in  whose  care  for  her  he  trusted — 
and  that  look  was  prayer.  She  saw  him  as  he  knelt  in  prayer, 
undisturbed  by  the  clang  of  instruments  still  kept  up  around 
him  ;  she  saw  him  rise,  and  then  a  deadly  sickness  crept  over 
her  every  limb,  a  thick  mist  obscured  her  sight,  sense  seemed 
on  the  point  of  deserting  her,  when  it  was  recalled  by  a  sound 
of  horror — a  shriek  so  wild,  so  long,  so  thrilling,  the  rudest 
spirit  midst  those  multitudes  shrank  back  appalled,  and  crossed 
themselves  in  terror.  On  one  ear  it  fell  with  a  sense  of  agony 
almost  equal  to  that  from  whence  it  came  ;  the  mother  recog- 
nized the  voice,  and  feeling,  sight,  hearing,  as  by  an  electric 
spell,  returned.  She  looked  forth  again,  and  though  her  eye 
caught  the  noble  form  of  Nigel  Bruce  yet  quivering  in  the  air, 
she  shrunk  not,  she  sickened  not,  for  its  gaze  sought  her  child ; 
she  had  disappeared  from  the  place  she  had  occupied.  She 
saw  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  making  a  rapid  way  through  the 
dispersing  crowds,  a  sudden  gust  blew  aside  his  wrapping- 
cloak,  the  face  of  her  child  was  exposed  to  her  view,  there  was 
a  look  of  death  upon  her  brow ;  and  if  the  Earl  of  Berwick  had 

H* 


322  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

lingered  to  note  whether  indeed  this  scene  of  horror  would  pass 
unnoticed,  unfelt  by  his  prisoner,  he  was  gratified  at  length,  for 
Isabella  of  Buchan  lay  senseless  on  her  prison  floor. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

"  AND  she  is  in  safety,  Gilbert  ?"  inquired  the  Princess 
Joan,  the  evening  of  the  day  following  the  execution,  lifting  her 
eyes,  swimming  in  tears,  to  her  husband's  face.  They  were 
sitting  alone  in  their  private  apartments,  secured  from  all  in- 
truders by  a  page  stationed  in  the  ante-room ;  and  the  earl  had 
been  relating  some  important  particulars  of  the  preceding  day. 

"  I  trust  in  heaven  she  is,  and  some  miles  ere  now  on  her 
road  to  Scotland,"  was  his  answer.  "  I  fear  for  nothing  save 
for  the  beautiful  mind  that  fragile  shell  contains ;  alas !  my 
Joan,  I  fear  me  that  has  gone  forever !" 

"  Better,  oh  better,  then,  that  fainting-fit  had  indeed  been 
death,"  she  said,  "  that  the  thread  of  life  had  snapped  than 
twisted  thus  in  madness.  Yet  thou  sayest  her  purpose 
seemed  firm,  her  intellect  clear,  in  her  intense  desire  to 
reach  Scotland.  Would  this  be,  thinkest  thou,  were  they  dis- 
ordered ?" 

"  I  think  yes ;  for  hadst  thou  seen,  as  I,  the  expression  of 
countenance,  the  unearthly  calmness  with  which  this  desire 
was  enforced,  the  constant,  though  unconscious,  repetition  of 
words  as  these,  '  to  the  king,  to  the  king,  my  path  lies  there, 
he  bade  me  seek  him ;  perchance  he  will  be  there  to  meet  me,' 
thou  too  wouldst  feel  that,  when  that  goal  is  gained,  her  hus- 
band's message  given,  sense  must  fail  or  life  itself  depart. 
But  once  for  a  few  brief  minutes  I  saw  that  calmness  partly 
fail,  and  I  indulged  in  one  faint  hope  she  would  be  relieved  by 
tears.  She  saw  old  Dermid  gaze  on  her  and  weep  ;  she  clung 
to  his  neck,  her  features  worked  convulsively,  and  her  voice  was 
choked  and  broken,  as  she  said,  "  We  must  not  tarry,  Dermid, 
we  must  not  wait  to  weep  and  moan ;  I  must  seek  King 
Robert  while  I  can.  There  is  a  fire  on  my  brain  and  heart, 
which  will  soon  scorch  up  all  memory  but  one ;  I  must  not 
wait  till  it  has  reached  his  words,  and  burned  them  up  too — oh, 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  323 

let  us  on  at  once ;'  but  the  old  man's  kindly  words  had  not  the 
effect  I  hoped,  she  only  shook  her  head,  and  then,  as  if  the 
horrible  recollection  of  the  past  flashed  back,  a  convulsive  shud- 
dering passed  through  her  frame,  and  when  she  raised  her  face 
from  her  hand  its  marble  rigidity  had  returned." 

"  Alas !  alas !  poor  sufferer,"  exclaimed  the  princess,  in 
heartfelt  sorrow ;  "I  fear  indeed,  if  such  things  be,  there  is 
little  hope  of  reason.  I  would  thou  hadst  conveyed  her  here, 
perchance  the  soothing  and  sympathy  of  one  of  her  own  sex 
had  averted  this  evil." 

"  I  doubt,  my  kind  Joan,"  replied  her  husband  ;  "  thy  words 
had  such  beneficial  power  before,  because  hope  had  still  pos- 
session of  her  breast,  she  hoped  to  the  very  last,  aye,  even 
when  she  so  madly  went  with  thee  to  Edward ;  now  that  is 
over  ;  hope  is  crushed,  when  despair  has  risen.  Thou  couldst 
not  have  soothed ;  it  would  have  been  but  wringing  thy  too 
kind  heart,  and  exposing  her  to  other  and  heightened  evils." 
The  princess  looked  up  inquiringly.  "  Knosvest  thou  not 
Buchan  hath  discovered  that  his  daughter  remained  with  Nigel 
Bruce,  as  his  engaged  bride,  at  Kildrummie,  and  is  even  now 
seeking  her  retreat,  vowing  she  shall  repent  with  tears  of  blood 
her  connection  with  a  Bruce  ?" 

"  I  did  not  indeed  ;  how  came  this  ?" 

"  How,  I  know  not,  save  that  it  was  reported  Buchan  had 
left  the  court,  on  a  mission  to  the  convent  where  the  Countess 
of  Carrick  and  her  attendants  are  immured,  and  in  all  proba- 
bility learnt  this  important  fact  from  them.  I  only  know  that 
at  the  instant  I  entered  the  prisoner's  dungeon,  Buchan  was 
demanding,  at  the  sword's  point,  the  place  of  her  retreat,  inci- 
ted to  the  deadliest  fury  at  Nigel's  daring  avowal  that  Agnes 
was  his  wife." 

"  Merciful  heaven !  and  Agnes,  what  did  she  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  for  I  dared  not,  absolutely  dared  not  look  upon 
her  face.  Her  husband's  self-control  saved  her,  for  he  stood 
and  answered  as  calmly  and  collectedly  as  if  indeed  she.  were 
in  the  safety  he  declared ;  her  father  brushed  by,  nay,  well- 
nigh  stumbled  over  her,  as  he  furiously  quitted  the  dungeon, 
glared  full  at  her,  but  knew  her  not.  But  I  dared  not  again 
bring  her  here,  it  was  in  too  close  vicinity  with  the  king  and 
her  cruel  father,  for  her  present  state  of  mind  must  have  be- 
trayed every  disguise." 


324:  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

"And  thinkest  thou  be  could  have  the  heart  to  injure 
her,  separated  as  she  is  by  death  from  the  husband  of  her 
love  ?" 

"  Aye,  persecute  her  as  he  hath  his  wife  and  son.  Joan,  I 
would  rather  lose  my  own  right  hand  than  that  unhappy  girl 
should  fall  into  her  father's  power.  Confinement,  indeed, 
though  it  would  add  but  little  real  misery  to  her  present  lot, 
yet  I  feel  that  with  her  present  wild  yearnings  to  rejoin  the 
Bruce,  to  fulfil  to  the  very  utmost  her  husband's  will,  it  would 
increase  tenfold  the  darkness  round  her ;  the  very  dread  of 
her  father  would  unhinge  the  last  remaining  link  of  intellect." 

Joan  shuddered.  "  God  in  mercy  forefend  such  ill !"  she 
said,  fervently ;  "  I  would  I  could  have  seen  her  once  again, 
for  she  has  strangely  twined  herself  about  my  heart ;  but  thou 
hast  judged  wisely,  my  Gilbert,  her  safety  is  too  precious  to 
be  thus  idly  risked  ;  and  this  old  man,  canst  thou  so  trust  him — 
will  he  guide  her  tenderly  and  well  ?" 

"  Aye,  I  would  stake  my  life  upon  his  truth ;  he  is  the  seer 
and  minstrel  of  the  house  of  Bruce,  and  that  would  be  all- 
sufficient  to  guarantee  his  unwavering  fidelity  and  skill.  He 
has  wandered  on  foot  from  Scotland,  to  look  on  his  beloved 
master  once  again ;  to  watch  over,  as  a  guardian  spirit,  the 
fate  of  that  master's  devoted  wife,  and  he  will  do  this,  I  doubt 
not,  and  discover  Carrick's  place"  of  retreat,  were  it  at  the 
utmost  boundaries  of  the  earth.  I  only  dread  pursuit." 

"  Pursuit !  and  by  whom  ?" 

"  By  her  father.  Men  said  he  was  close  beside  me  during 
that  horrible  hour,  though  I  saw  him  not ;  if  he  observed  her, 
traced  to  her  lips  that  maddening  shriek,  it  would  excite  his 
curiosity  quite  sufficiently  for  him  to  trace  my  steps,  and  dis- 
covery were  then  inevitable." 

"  But  did  he  do  this — hast  seen  him  since  ?" 

"  No,  he  has  avoided  me  ;  but  still,  for  her  sake,  I  fear  him. 
I  know  not  how  or  when,  but  there  are  boding  whispers  within 
me  that  all  will  not  be  well.  Now  I  would  have  news  from 
thee.  Is  Hereford  released  ?" 

"  Yes ;  coupled  with  the  condition  that  he  enters  not  my 
father's  presence  until  Easter.  He  is  deeply  and  justly  hurt ; 
but  more  grieved  at  the  change  in  his  sovereign  than  angered 
at  the  treatment  of  himself." 

"  No  marvel ;  for  if  ever  there  were  a  perfect  son  of  chivalry, 


THE  DATS  OF  BRUCE.  325 

one  most  feelingly  alive  to  its  smallest  point  of  honor,  it  is 
Humphrey  Bohun." 

So  spoke  Gilbert  de  Clare,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  unconscious 
that  he  himself  had  equal  right  to  a  character  so  exalted ;  that 
both  Scottish  and  English  historians  would  emulate  each  other 
in  handing  his  name  down  to  posterity,  surrounded  by  that 
lucid  halo  of  real  worth,  on  which  the  eye  turns  again  and 
again  to  rest  for  relief  from  the  darker  minds  and  ruder  hearts 
which  formed  the  multitude  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  The 
duties  of  friendship  were  performed  in  his  preservation  of  the 
person,  and  constant  and  bold  defence  of  the  character  of  the 
Bruce ;  the  duties  of  a  subject,  in  dying  on  the  battle-field  hi 
service  for  his  king. 

The  boding  prognostics  of  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  were  veri- 
fied ere  that  day  closed.  While  still  in  earnest  converse  with 
his  countess,  a  messenger  came  from  the  king,  demanding  their 
instant  presence  in  his  closet.  The  summons  Avas  so  unusual, 
that  in  itself  it  was  alarming,  nor  did  the  sight  of  the  Earl  of 
Buchan  in  close  conference  with  the  monarch  decrease  their 
fears.  As  soon  as  a  cessation  of  his  pains  permitted  the  exer- 
tion, Buchan  had  been  sent  for  by  the  king ;  the  issue  of  his 
inquiries  after  his  daughter  demanded,  and  all  narrated ;  his 
interview  with  Sir  Nigel  dwelt  upon  with  all  the  rancor  of 
hate.  Edward  had  listened  without  making  any  observation ; 
a  twinkle  of  his  still  bright  eye,  an  expression  about  the  lips 
alone  betraying  that  he  not  only  heard  but  was  forming  his  own 
conclusions  from  the  tale. 

"  And  you  have  no  clue,  no  thought  of  her  retreat  ?"  he 
asked,  at  length,  abruptly,  when  the  earl  ceased. 

"  Not  the  very  faintest,  your  grace.  Had  not  that  interfer- 
ing Gloucester  come  between  me  and  my  foe,  I  had  forced  it 
from  him  at  the  sharp  sword's  point." 

Gloucester — humph !"  muttered  the  king.  "  Yet  an  so 
bloody  was  thy  purpose,  my  good  lord,  his  interference  did 
thee  no  ill.  How  was  the  earl  accompanied — was  he 
alone  ?" 

"If  I  remember  rightly,  alone,  your  grace.  No,  by  my 
faith,  there  was  a  page  with  him  !" 

"  A  page — ha  !  and  what  manner  of  man  was  he  ?" 

"  Man !  your  highness,  say  rather  a  puny  stripling,  with  far 
more  of  the  woman  about  him  than  the  man." 


326  THE  DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

"  Ha !"  again  uttered  the  king ;  "  looked  he  so  weakly — did 
thy  fury  permit  such  keen  remark  ?" 

"  Not  at  that  time,  your  highness ;  but  he  was,  with  Glou- 
cester, compelled  to  witness  the  execution  of  this  black  traitor ; 
and  he  looked  white,  statue-like,  and  uttered  a  shriek,  forsooth, 
likely  to  scare  back  the  villain's  soul  even  as  it  took  flight. 
Gloucester  cared  for  the  dainty  brat,  as  if  he  had  been  a  son 
of  your  highness,  not  a  page  in  his  household,  for  he  lifted  him 
up  in  his  arms,  and  bore  him  out  of  the  crowd." 

"  Humph !"  said  Edward  again,  in  a  tone  likely  to  have 
excited  curiosity  in  any  mind  less  obtuse  on  such  matters  than 
that  of  the  Scottish  earl.  "  And  thou  sayest,"  he  added,  after 
some  few  minutes'  pause,  "  this  daring  traitor,  so  lately  a  man, 
would  tell  thee  no  more  than  that  thy  daughter  was  his  wife, 
and  in  safety — out  of  thy  reach?" 

Buchan  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  thou  hast  not  the  most  distant  idea  where  he  hath 
concealed  her?" 

"  None,  your  highness." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  thee,  sir  earl ;  and  'f  thou  dost  not  feel  in- 
clined to  dash  out  thine  own  brains  with  vexation  at  letting  thy 
prey  so  slip  out  of  thy  grasp,  thou  art  not  the  man  I  took  thee 
for,"  and  Edward  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  startled  companion  with 
a  glance  at  once  keen  and  malicious. 

"  The  white  and  statue-looking  page,  with  more  of  woman 
about  him  than  the  man,  was  the  wife  of  this  rank  villain,  Sir 
Nigel  Bruce,  and  thy  daughter,  my  Lord  of  Buchan.  The 
Earl  of  Gloucester  may,  perchance,  tell  thee  more." 

The  earl  started  from  his  seat  with  an  oath,  which  the  pres- 
ence of  majesty  itself  could  not  restrain.  The  dulness  of  his 
brain  was  dissolved  as  by  a  flash  of  lightning ;  the  ghastly  ap- 
pearance, the  maddening  shriek,  the  death-like  faint,  all  of 
which  he  had  witnessed  in  Gloucester's  supposed  page,  nay, 
the  very  disturbed  and  anxious  look  of  the  earl  himself,  gave 
truth  and  life  to  Edward's  words,  and  he  struck  his  clenched 
fist  against  his  brow,  and  strode  up  and  down  the  royal  closet, 
in  a  condition  as  frantically  disturbed  as  the  monarch  could 
possibly  have  desired ;  and  then,  hastily  and  almost  incoherently, 
besought  the  king's  aid  in  sifting  the  matter  to  the  very  bottom, 
and  obtaining  repossession  of  his  daughter,  entreating  leave  of 
absence  to  seek  out  Gloucester  and  tax  him  with  the  fact. 


THE   DAYS  OF  BRUCE.  327 

Edward,  whose  fury  against  the  house  of  Bruce — whether 
man,  woman,  or  child,  noble  or  serf,  belonging  to  them — had 
been  somewhat  soothed  by  the  ignominious  execution  of  Nigel, 
had  felt  almost  as  much  amused  as  angered  at  the  earl's  tale, 
and  enjoyed  the  idea  of  a  man,  whom  in  his  inmost  heart  he 
most  thoroughly  despised,  having  been  so  completely  outwitted, 
and  for  the  time  so  foiled.  The  feud  between  the  Comyn  and 
the  Bruce  was  nothing  to  him,  except  where  it  forwarded  his 
own  interests.  He  had  incited  Buchan  to  inquire  about  his 
daughter,  simply  because  the  occupation  would  remove  that 
earl  out  of  his  way  for  a  short  time,  and  perhaps,  if  the  rumor 
of  her  engagement  with  one  of  the  brothers  of  the  Bruce 
were  true,  set  another  engine  at  work  to  discover  the  place  of 
their  concealment.  The  moment  Buchan  informed  him  it  was 
to  Nigel  she  had  been  engaged,  with  Nigel  last  seen,  his  acute 
penetration  recalled  the  page  who  had  accompanied  the  prin- 
cess when  she  supplicated  mercy,  and  had  he  heard  no  more, 
would  have  pointed  there  for  the  solution  of  the  mystery.  In- 
censed he  was  and  deeply,  at  the  fraud  practised  upon  him  at 
the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Gloucester  daring  to  harbor,  nay, 
protect  and  conceal  the  wife  of  a  traitor ;  but  his  anger  was 
subdued  in  part  by  the  belief  that  now  it  was  almost  impossi- 
ble she  could  escape  the  wardance  of  her  father,  and  his  venge- 
ance would  be  more  than  sufficient  to  satisfy  him ;  nay,  when 
he  recalled  the  face  and  the  voice,  it  was  so  like  madness  and 
death,  and  he  was,  moreover,  so  convinced  that  now  her  husband 
was  dead  she  could  do  him  no  manner  of  harm,  that  he  inwardly 
and  almost  unconsciously  hoped  she  might  eventually  escape 
her  father's  power,  although  he  composedly  promised  the  earl 
to  exercise  his  authority,  and  give  him  the  royal  warrant  for 
the  search  and  committal  of  her  person  wherever  she  might 
be.  Anger,  that  Gloucester  and  his  wife  should  so  have  dared 
his  sovereign  power,  was  now  the  prevailing  feeling,  and  there- 
fore was  it  he  commanded  their  presence,  determined  to 
question  them  himself,  rather  than  through  the  still  enraged 
Buchan. 

Calmly  and  collectedly  the  noble  pair  received  alike  the  dis- 
pleasure of  their  sovereign  and  the  ill-concealed  fury  of  Buchan. 
They  neither  denied  the  charge  against  them  nor  equivocated 
in  their  motives  for  their  conduct ;  alarmed  they  were,  indeed, 
for  the  unhappy  Agnes  ;  but  as  denial  and  concealment  were 


328  TILE   DATS   OF  BKTJCE. 

now  alike  impossible,  and  could  avail  her  nothing,  they  boldly, 
nay,  proudly  acknowledged  that  which  they  had  done,  and 
openly  rejoiced  it  had  been  theirs  to  give  one  gleam  of  comfort 
to  the  dying  Nigel,  by  extending  protection  to  his  wife. 

"And  are  ye  not  traitors — bold,  presuming  traitors — deserv- 
ing the  chastisement  of  such,  bearding  me  thus  in  my  very 
palace?"  wrathful ly  exclaimed  Edward.  "Know  ye  not  both 
are  liable  to  the  charge  of  treason,  aye,  treason — and  fear  ye  to 
brave  us  thus?" 

"My  liege,  we  are  no  traitors,  amenable  to  no  such  charge," 
calmly  answered  Gloucester ;  "  far,  far  more  truly,  faithfully, 
devotedly  your  grace's  subjects  than  many  of  those  who  had 
shrunk  from  an  act  as  this.  That  in  so  doing  we  were  likely  to 
incur  your  royal  displeasure,  we  acknowledge  with  deep  regret 
and  sorrow,  and  I  take  it  no  shame  thus  on  my  knee  to  beseech 
your  highness's  indulgence  for  the  fault;  but  if  you  deem  it 
worthy  of  chastisement,  we  are  ready  to  submit  to  it,  denying, 
however,  all  graver  charge,  than  that  of  failing  in  proper  defer- 
ence to  your  grace." 

"All  other  charge!  By  St.  Edward,  is  not  that  enough  ?" 
answered  the  king,  but  in  a  mollified  tone.  "And  thou,  min- 
ion, thou  whom  we  deemed  the  very  paragon  of  integrity  and 
honor,  hast  thou  aught  to  say  ?  Did  not  thy  lips  frame  false- 
hood, and  thy  bold  looks  confirm  it?" 

"My  father,  my  noble  father,  pardon  me  that  in  this  I 
erred,"  answered  Joan,  kneeling  by  his  side,  and,  despite  his 
efforts  to  prevent  it,  clasping  his  hand  and  covering  it  with 
kisses;  "yet  I  spoke  no  falsehood,  uttered  naught  which  was 
not  truth.  She  was  ill  and  weakly  ;  she  was  well-nigh  mad- 
dened from  scenes  and  sounds  of  blood.  I  had  besought  her 
not  to  attend  me,  but  a  wife's  agony  could  not  be  restrained, 
and  if  we  had  refused  her  the  protection  she  so  wildly  craved, 
had  discovered  her  person  to  your  highness,  would  it  have 
availed  thee  aught  ?  a  being  young,  scarce  past  her  childhood — 
miserable,  maddened  well-nigh  to  death,  her  life  wrapt  up  in 
her  husband's,  which  was  forfeited  to  thee." 

"The  wife  of  a  traitor,  the  offspring  of  a  traitress,  connected 
on  every  side  with  treason,  and  canst  ask  if  her  detention  would 
have  availed  us  aught  ?  Joan,  Joan,  thy  defence  is  but  a  weak 
one,"  answered  the  king,  sternly,  but  he  called  her  "  Joan,"  and 
that  simple  word  thrilled  to  her  heart  as  the  voice  of  former 


THE  DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  329 

years,  and  her  father  felt  a  sudden  gush  of  tears  fall  on  the 
hand  he  had  not  withdrawn,  and  vainly  he  struggled  against 
the  softening  feelings  those  tears  had  brought.  It  was  strange 
that,  angered  as  he  really  was,  the  better  feelings  of  Edward 
should  in  such  a  moment  have  so  completely  gained  the  as- 
cendency. Perhaps  he  was  not  proof  against  the  contrast  be- 
fore him,  presented  in  the  persons  of  Buchan  and  Gloucester ; 
the  base  villainy  of  the  one,  the  exalted  nobility  of  the  other, 
alike  shone  forth  the  clearer  from  their  unusually  close  contact. 
In  general,  Edward  was  wont  to  deem  these  softening  emotions 
foolish  weaknesses,  which  he  would  banish  by  shunning  the  so- 
ciety of  all  those  who  could  call  them  forth.  Their  candid 
acknowledgment  of  having  deserved  his  displeasure,  and  sub- 
mission to  his  will,  however,  so  soothed  his  self-love,  his  fond- 
ness for  absolute  power,  that  he  permitted  them  to  have  vent 
with  but  little  restraint.  Agnes  might  have  been  the  wife  of  a 
traitor,  but  he  was  out  of  Edward's  way ;  the  daughter  of  a 
traitress,  but  she  was  equally  powerless  ;  linked  with  treason, 
but  too  much  crushed  by  her  own  misery  to  be  sensible  of 
aught  else.  Surely  she  was  too  insignificant  for  him  to  perse- 
vere in  wrath,  and  alienate  by  unmerited  severity  yet  more  the 
hearts  which  at  such  moments  he  felt  he  valued,  despite  his 
every  effort  to  the  contrary. 

So  powerfully  was  he  worked  upon,  that  had  it  not  been  for 
the  ill-restrained  fury  of  Buchan,  it  was  possible  the  subject 
would  have  been  in  the  end  peaceably  dismissed ;  but  on  that 
earl's  reminding  him  of  his  royal  word,  the  king  commanded 
Gloucester  to  deliver  up  his  charge  to  her  rightful*  guardian, 
and  all  the  past  should  be  forgiven.  The  earl  quietly  and  re- 
spectfully replied  he  could  not,  for  he  knew  not  where  she  was. 
Wrath  gathered  on  Edward's  brow,  and  Buchan  laid  his  hand 
on  his  sword  ;  but  neither  the  royal  commands  nor  Buchan's 
muttered  threats  and  oaths  of  vengeance  could  elicit  from 
Gloucester  more  than  that  she  had  set  off  to  return  to  Scotland 
with  an  aged  man,  not  three  hours  after  the  execution  had 
taken  place.  He  had  purposely  avoided  all  inquiries  as  to  their 
intended  route,  and  therefore  not  any  cross-questioning  on  the 
part  of  the  king  caused  him  to  waver  in  the  smallest  point  from 
his  original  tale,  or  afforded  any  evidence  that  he  knew  more 
than  he  said. 

"  Get  thee  to  Sir  Edward  Cunningham,  my  Lord  of  Buchan, 


330  THE   DATS   OF  BRUCE. 

and  bid  him  draw  up  a  warrant  for  the  detention  and  commit- 
tal of  these  two  persons  wherever  they  may  be,"  the  king  said, 
"  and  away  with  thee,  and  a  trusty  troop,  with  all  speed  to 
Berwick.  Make  inquiries  of  all  who  at  that  particular  hour 
passed  the  gates,  and  be  assured  thou  wilt  find  some  clue. 
Take  men  enough  to  scour  the  country  in  all  directions  ;  pro- 
vide them  with  an  exact  description  of  the  prisoners  they  seek, 
and  tarry  not,  and  thou  wilt  yet  gain  thy  prize  ;  living  or  dead, 
we  resign  all  our  right  over  her  person  to  thee,  and  give  thee 
power,  as  her  father,  to  do  with  her  what  may  please  thee  best. 
Away  with  thee,  my  lord,  and  heaven  speed  thee !" 

"  My  liege  and  father,  oh,  why  hast  thou  done  this  ?"  ex- 
claimed the  princess,  imploringly,  as,  with  a  low  obeisance  to 
the  king  and  a  gesture  of  triumph  at  the  Earl  of  Gloucester, 
Buchan  departed.  "  Hath  she  not  borne  misery  enough  !" 

"  Nay,  we  do  but  our  duty  to  our  subjects  in  aiding  fathers 
to  repress  rebellious  children,"  replied  the  king.  "  Of  a  truth, 
fair  dame  of  Gloucester,  thy  principles  of  filial  duty  seem  some- 
what as  loose  and  light  as  those  which  counselled  abetting,  pro- 
tecting, and  concealing  the  partner  of  a  traitor.  Wouldst  have 
us  refuse  Buchan's  most  fatherly  desire  ?  Surely  thou  wouldst 
not  part  him  from  his  child  ?" 

"  Forever  and  forever !"  exclaimed  the  princess,  fervently. 
"  Great  God  in  heaven,  that  such  a  being  should  call  that  mon- 
ster father,  and  owe  him  the  duty  of  a  child !  But,  oh,  thou 
dost  but  jest,  my  father  ;  in  mercy  recall  that  warrant — expose 
her  not  to  wretchedness  as  this !" 

"  Peace,"  replied  the  king,  sternly.  "  As  thou  valuest  thine 
own  and  thy  husband's  liberty  and  life,  breathe  not  another 
syllable,  speak  not  another  word  for  her,  or  double  misery  shall 
be  her  portion.  We  have  shown  enough  of  mercy  in  demand- 
ing no  further  punishment  for  that  which  ye  have  done,  than 
that  for  ten  days  ye  remain  prisoners  in  your  own  apartments. 
Answer  not ;  we  will  have  no  more  of  this." 

The  Earl  of  Buchan,  meanwhile,  had  made  no  delay  in  gain- 
ing the  necessary  aids  to  his  plan.  Ere  two  hours  passed,  he 
was  on  his  road  to  Berwick,  backed  with  a  stout  body  of  his 
own  retainers,  and  bearing  a  commission  to  the  Earl  of  Berwick 
to  provide  him  with  as  many  more  as  he  desired.  He  went 
first  to  the  hostelry  near  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  where  he 
remembered  Gloucester  had  borne  the  supposed  page.  There 


THE  DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  331 

he  obtained  much  desirable  information,  an  exact  description  of 
the  dress,  features,  and  appearance  of  both  the  page  and  his 
companion  ;  of  the  former,  indeed,  he  recollected  all-sufficient, 
even  had  the  description  been  less  exact.  The  old  minstrel  had 
attracted  the  attention  of  many  within  the  hostel,  and  conse- 
quently enabled  Buchan  to  obtain  information  from  various 
sources,  all  of  which  agreed  so  well  that  he  felt  sure  of  success. 

Backed  by  the  warrant  of  Edward,  he  went  to  the  civil  au- 
thorities of  the  town,  obtained  four  or  five  technically  drawn-up 
descriptions  of  the  prisoners,  and  intrusted  them  to  the  differ- 
ent officers,  who,  with  bands  of  fifty  men,  he  commanded  to 
search  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  country  round  Berwick,  in 
various  directions.  He  himself  discovering  they  had  passed 
through  the  Scotch  gate  and  appeared  directing  their  course  in 
a  westerly  direction,  took  with  him  one  hundred  men,  and  fol- 
lowed that  track,  buoyed  up  by  the  hope  not  only  of  gaining 
possession  of  his  daughter,  but  perhaps  of  falling  in  with  the 
retreat  even  of  the  detested  Bruce,  against  whom  he  had  sol- 
emnly recorded  a  vow  never  to  let  the  sword  rest  in  the  scab- 
bard till  he  had  revenged  the  murder  of  his  kinsman,  the  Red 
Comyn.  Some  words  caught  by  a  curious  listener,  passing 
between  the  page  and  minstrel,  and  eagerly  reported  to  him, 
convinced  him  it  was  Robert  Bruce  they  sought,  and  urged  him 
to  continue  the  search  with  threefold  vigor. 

Slowly  and  sadly  meanwhile  had  the  hours  of  their  weary 
pilgrimage  passed  for  the  poor  wanderers,  and  little  did  they 
imagine,  as  they  threaded  the  most  intricate  paths  of  the  bor- 
ders of  Scotland,  that  they  were  objects  of  persecution  and 
pursuit.  Though  the  bodily  strength  of  Agnes  had  well-nigh 
waned,  though  the  burning  cheek  and  wandering,  too  brightly 
flashing  eye  denoted  how  fearfully  did  fever  rage  internally, 
she  would  not  pause  save  when  absolutely  compelled.  She 
could  neither  sleep  nor  eat :  her  only  cry  was,  "  To  the  king — 
bring  me  but  to  King  Robert  while  I  may  yet  speak  !"  her 
only  consciousness,  that  she  had  a  mission  to  perform,  that  she 
was  intrusted  with  a  message  from  the  dead  ;  all  else  was  a 
void,  dark,  shapeless,  in  which  thought  framed  no  image  ;  mind, 
not  a  wish.  Insensibility  it  was  not,  alas !  no,  that  void  was 
woe,  all  woe,  which  folded  up  heart  and  brain  as  with  a  cloak 
of  fire,  scorching  up  thought,  memory,  hope — all  that  could  re- 
call the  past,  vivify  the  present,  or  vision  forth  the  future.  She 


332  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

breathed  indeed  and  spoke,  and  clung  to  that  aged  man  with 
all  the  clinging  helplessness  of  her  sex,  but  scarce  could  she  be 
said  to  live ;  all  that  was  real  of  life  had  twined  round  her 
husband's  soul,  and  with  it  fled. 

The  old  man  felt  not  his  advanced  age,  the  consciousness  of 
the  many  dangers  hovering  on  their  way ;  his  whole  thought 
was  for  her,  to  bring  her  to  the  soothing  care  and  protection  of 
the  king,  and  then  he  cared  not  how  soon  his  sand  run  out. 
When  wandering  in  the  districts  of  Annandale  and  Carrick,  be- 
fore he  had  arrived  at  Berwick,  he  had  learned  the  secret  but 
most  important  intelligence  that  King  Robert  had  passed  the 
Avinter  off  the  coast  of  Ireland,  and  was  supposed  to  be  only 
waiting  a  favorable  opportunity  to  return  to  Scotland,  and  once 
more  upraise  his  standard.  This  news  had  been  most  religi- 
ously and  strictly  preserved  a  secret  amid  the  few  faithful  ad- 
herents of  the  Bruce,  who  perhaps  spoke  yet  more  as  they 
hoped  than  as  a  fact  well  founded. 

For  some  days  their  way  had  been  more  fatiguing  than  dan- 
gerous, for  though  the  country  was  overrun  with  English,  a  min- 
strel and  a  page  were  objects  far  too  insignificant,  in  the  pres- 
ent state  of  excitement,  to  meet  with  either  detention  or  notice. 
Not  a  week  had  passed,  however,  before  rumors  of  Buchan's 
parties  reached  the  old  man's  ears,  and  filled  him  with  anxiety 
and  dread.  The  feverish  restlessness  of  Agnes  to  advance  yet 
quicker  on  their  way,  precluded  all  idea  of  halting,  save  in 
woods  and  caverns,  till  the  danger  had  passed.  Without  in- 
forming her  of  all  he  had  heard,  and  the  danger  he  appre- 
hended, he  endeavored  to  avoid  all  towns  and  villages  ;  but  the 
heavy  rains  which  had  set  in  rendered  their  path  through  the 
country  yet  more  precarious  and  uncertain,  and  often  compelled 
him  most  unwillingly  to  seek  other  and  better  shelter.  At 
Strathaven  he  became  conscious  that  their  dress  and  appear- 
ance were  strictly  scrutinized,  and  some  remarks  that  he  dis- 
tinguished convinced  him  that  Buchan  had  either  passed 
through  that  town,  or  was  lingering  in  its  neighborhood  still. 
Turning  sick  with  apprehension,  the  old  man  hastily  retraced 
his  steps  to  the  hostel,  where  he  had  left  Agnes,  and  found 
her,  for  the  first  time  since  their  departure,  sunk  into  a  kind 
of  sleep  or  stupor  from  exhaustion,  from  which  he  could  not 
bear  to  arouse  her.  Watching  her  for  some  little  time  in 
silence,  his  attention  was  attracted  by  whispering  voices,  only 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

separated  from  him  by  a  thin  partition.  They  recounted  and 
compared  one  by  one  the  dress  and  peculiar  characteristics  of 
himself  and  his  companion,  seeming  to  compare  it  with  a  writ- 
ten list.  Then  followed  an  argument  as  to  whether  it  would 
not  be  better  to  arrest  their  progress  at  once,  or  send  on  to  the 
Earl  of  Buchan,  who  was  at  a  castle  only  five  miles  distant. 
How  it  was  determined  Dermid  knew  not,  for  the  voices  faded  in 
the  distance  ;  but  he  had  heard  enough,  and  it  seemed  indeed  as 
if  detention  and  restraint  were  at  length  at  hand.  What  to  do 
he  knew  not.  Night  had  now  some  hours  advanced,  and  to 
attempt  leaving  the  hostel  at  such  an  unseasonable  hour  would 
be  of  itself  sufficient  to  confirm  suspicion.  All  seemed  at  rest 
within  the  establishment ;  there  was  no  sound  to  announce  that 
a  messenger  had  been  dispatched  to  the  earl,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  await  as  calmly  as  might  be  the  dawn. 

The  first  streak  of  light,  however,  was  scarce  visible  in  the 
east  before,  openly  and  loudly,  so  as  to  elude  all  appearance  of 
flight,  he  declared  his  intention  of  pursuing  his  journey,  as  the 
weather  had  already  detained  them  too  long.  He  called  on 
the  hostess  to  receive  her  reckoning,  commanded  the  mules  to 
be  saddled,  all  of  which  was  done,  to  his  surprise,  without 
comment  or  question,  and  they  departed  unrestrained  ;  the  old 
man  too  much  overjoyed  at  this  unexpected  escape  to  note  that 
they  were  followed  by  two  Englishmen,  the  one  on  horseback, 
the  other  on  foot.  Anxiety  indeed  had  still  possession  of  him, 
for  he  could  not  reconcile  the  words  he  had  overheard  with 
their  quiet  departure ;  but  as  the  day  passed,  and  they  plunged 
thicker  and  thicker  in  the  woods  of  Carrick,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  pursuit,  or  even  of  a  human  form,  he  hailed  with  joy  a 
solitary  house,  and  believed  the  danger  passed. 

The  inmates  received  them  with  the  utmost  hospitality ;  the 
order  for  their  detention  had  evidently  not  reached  them,  and 
Dermid  determined  on  waiting  quietly  there  till  the  exhausted 
strength  of  his  companion  should  be  recruited,  and  permit 
them  to  proceed.  An  hour  and  more  passed  in  cheerful  con- 
verse with  the  aged  couple  who  owned  the  house,  and  who, 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  servants,  were  its  sole  inhab- 
itants. The  tales  of  the  minstrel  were  called  for  and  received 
with  a  glee  which  seemed  to  make  all  his  listeners  feel  young 
again.  Agnes  alone  sate  apart ;  her  delicate  frame  and  evident 
exhaustion  concealing  deeper  sufferings  from  her  hosts,  who 


334:  THE  DAYS   OF  BEUCE. 

vied  with  each  other  in  seeking  to  alleviate  her  fatigue  and  give 
hodily  comfort,  if  they  could  offer  no  other  consolation.  Lean- 
ing back  in  a  large  settle  in  the  chimney  corner,  she  had  seemed 
unconscious  of  the  cheerful  sociability  around  her,  when  sud- 
denly she  arose,  and  advancing  to  Dermid,  laid  a  trembling  hand 
on  his  arm.  He  looked  up  surprised. 

"  Hist !"  she  murmured,  throwing  back  the  hair  from  her 
damp  brow.  "  Hear  ye  no  sound  ?" 

All  listened  for  a  time  in  vain. 

"  Again,"  she  said  ;  "  'tis  nearer,  more  distinct.  Who  comes 
with  a  troop  of  soldiers  here  ?" 

It  was  indeed  the  heavy  trampling  of  many  horse,  at  first  so 
distant  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished,  save  by  ears  anxious 
and  startled  as  old  Dermid's  ;  but  nearer  and  nearer  they  came, 
till  even  the  inmates  of  the  house  all  huddled  together  in  alarm. 
Agnes  remained  standing,  her  hand  on  Dermid's  arm,  her  head 
thrown  back,  her  features  bearing  an  expression  scarce  to  be 
defined.  The  horses'  hoofs,  mingled  with  the  clang  of  armor, 
rung  sharp  and  clear  on  the  stones  of  the  courtyard.  They 
halted :  the  pommel  of  a  sword  was  struck  against  the  oaken 
door,  and  a  night's  lodging  courteously  demanded.  The  terror 
of  the  owners  of  the  house  subsided,  for  the  voice  they  heard 
was  Scotch. 

The  door  was  thrown  open,  the  request  granted,  with  the 
same  hospitality  as  had  been  extended  to  the  minstrel  and  the 
page.  On  the  instant  there  was  a  confused  sound  of  warriors 
dismounting,  of  horses  eager  for  stabling  and  forage  ;  and  one 
tall  and  stately  figure,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  mail,  entered 
the  house,  and  removing  his  helmet,  addressed  some  words  of 
courteous  greeting  and  acknowledgment  to  its  inmates.  A 
loud  exclamation  burst  from  the  minstrel's  lips  ;  but  Agnes 
uttered  no  sound,  she  made  one  bound  forward,  and  dropped 
senseless  at  the  warrior's  feet. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


-  IT  was  on  a  cool  evening,  near  the  end  of  September,  1311, 
that  a  troop,  consisting  of  about  thirty  horse,  and  as  many  on 
foot,  were  leisurely  traversing  the  mountain  passes  between  the 


THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE.  335 

counties  of  Dumfries  and  Lanark.  Their  arms  were  well  bur- 
nished ;  their  buff  coats  and  half- armor  in  good  trim ;  their 
banner  waved  proudly  from  its  staff,  as  bright  and  gay  as  if  it 
had  not  even  neared  a  scene  of  strife  ;  and  there  was  an  air  of 
hilarity  and  gallantry  about  them  that  argued  well  for  success, 
if  about  to  commence  an  expedition,  or  if  returning,  told  with 
equal  emphasis  they  had  been  successful.  That  the  latter  was 
the  case  was  speedily  evident,  from  the  gay  converse  passing 
between  them  ;  their  allusions  to  some  late  gallant  achievement 
of  their  patriot  sovereign ;  their  joyous  comparisons  between 
good  King  Robert  and  his  weak  opponent,  Edward  II.  of  Eng- 
gland,  marvelling  how  so  wavering  and  indolent  a  son  could 
have  sprung  from  so  brave  and  determined  a  sire ;  for,  Scots- 
men as  they  were,  they  were  now  FREE,  and  could  thus  afford 
to  allow  the  "  hammer  "  of  their  country  some  knightly  quali- 
ties, despite  the  stern  and  cruel  tyranny  which  to  them  had 
ever  marked  his  conduct.  They  spoke  in  laughing  scorn  of  the 
second  Edward's  efforts  to  lay  his  father's  yoke  anew  upon  their 
necks  ;  they  said  a  just  heaven  had  interfered  and  urged  him 
to  waste  the  decisive  moment  of  action  in  indolence  and  folly, 
in  the  flatteries  of  his  favorite,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  those 
wiser  lords,  whose  counsels,  if  followed  on  the  instant,  might 
have  shaken  even  the  wise  and  patriot  Bruce.  Yet  they  were 
so  devoted  to  their  sovereign,  they  idolized  him  alike  as  a  warrior 
and  a  man  too  deeply,  to  allow  that  to  the  weak  and  vacillating 
conduct  of  Edward  they  owed  the  preservation  of  their  coun- 
try. It  was  easy  to  perceive  by  the  springy  step,  the  flash- 
ing eye,  the  ringing  tone  with  which  that  magic  name,  the 
Bruce,  was  spoken,  how  deeply  it  was  written  on  the  heart; 
the  joy  it  was  to  recall  his  deeds,  and  feel  it  was  through  him 
that  they  were  free  !  Their  converse  easily  betrayed  them  to 
be  one  of  those  well-ordered  though  straggling  parties  into 
which  King  Robert's  invading  armies  generally  dispersed  at  his 
command,  when  returning  to  their  own  fastnesses,  after  a  suc- 
cessful expedition  to  the  English  border. 

The  laugh  and  jest  resounded,  as  we  have  said,  amongst 
both  officers  and  men  ;  but  their  leader,  who  was  riding  about 
a  stone's  throw  ahead,  gave  no  evidence  of  sharing  their  mirth. 
He  was  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  chain  armor,  of  a  hue  so  dark 
as  to  be  mistaken  for  black,  and  from  his  wearing  a  surcoat  of 
the  same  color,  unenlivened  by  any  device,  gave  him  altogether 


336  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

a  somewhat  sombre  appearance,  although  it  could  not  detract 
in  the  smallest  degree  from  the  peculiar  gracefulness  and  easy 
dignity  of  his  form,  which  was  remarkable  both  on  horseback 
and  on  foot.  He  was  evidently  very  tall,  and  by  his  firm  seat 
in  the  saddle,  had  been  early  accustomed  to  equestrian  exer- 
cises ;  but  his  limbs  were  slight  almost  to  delicacy,  and  though 
completely  ensheathed  in  mail,  there  was  an  appearance  of  ex- 
treme youth  about  him,  that  perhaps  rendered  the  absence  of 
all  gayety  the  more  striking.  Yet  on  the  battle-field  he  gave 
no  evidence  of  inexperience  as  a  warrior,  no  sign  that  he  was 
merely  a  scholar  in  the  art  of  war ;  there  only  did  men  believe 
he  must  be  older  than  he  seemed ;  there  only  his  wonted  de- 
pression gave  place  to  an  energy,  a  fire,  second  to  none  amongst 
the  Scottish  patriots,  not  even  to  the  Bruce  himself ;  then  only 
was  the  naturally  melancholy  music  of  his  voice  lost  in  accents 
of  thrilling  power,  of  imperative  command,  and  the  oldest  war- 
riors followed  him  as  if  under  the  influence  of  some  spell.  But 
of  his  appearance  on  the  field  we  must  elsewhere  speak.  He 
now  led  his  men  through  the  mountain  defiles  mechanically,  as 
if  buried  in  meditation,  and  that  meditation  not  of  the  most 
pleasing  nature.  His  vizor  was  closed,  but  short  clustering 
curls,  of  a  raven  blackness,  escaped  beneath  the  helmet,  and 
almost  concealed  the  white  linen  and  finely  embroidered  collar 
which  lay  over  his  gorget,  and  was  secured  in  front  by  a  ruby 
clasp  ;  a  thick  plume  of  black  feathers  floated  from  his  helmet, 
rivalling  in  color  the  mane  of  his  gallant  charger,  which  pawed 
the  ground,  and  held  his  head  aloft  as  if  proud  of  the  charge 
he  bore.  A  shield  was  slung  round  the  warrior's  neck,  and  its 
device  and  motto  seemed  in  melancholy  accordance  with  the 
rest  of  his  attire.  On  a  field  argent  lay  the  branch  of  a  tree 
proper,  blasted  and  jagged,  with  the  words  "  Ni  nom  ni  paren, 
je  suis  seul,"  rudely  engraved  in  Norman  French  beneath  ;  his 
helmet  bore  no  crest,  nor  did  his  war-cry  on  the  field,  "  Amiot 
for  the  Bruce  and  freedom,"  offer  any  clue  to  the  curious  as  to 
his  history,  for  that  there  was  some  history  attached  to  him  all 
chose  to  believe,  though  the  age  was  too  full  of  excitement  to 
allow  much  of  wonderment  or  curiosity  to  be  expended  upon 
him.  His  golden  spurs  gave  sufficient  evidence  that  he  was  a 
knjght ;  his  prowess  on  the  field  proclaimed  whoever  had  given 
him  that  honor  had  not  bestowed  it  on  the  undeserving.  His 
deeds  of  daring,  unequalled  even  in  that  age,  obtained  him  fa- 


THE    DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  337 

vor  in  the  eyes  of  every  soldier ;  and  if  there  were  some  in  the 
court  and  camp  of  Bruce  who  were  not  quite  satisfied,  and 
loved  not  the  mystery  which  surrounded  him,  it  mattered  not, 
Sir  Amiot  of  the  Branch,  or  the  Lonely  Chevalier,  as  he  was 
generally  called,  went  on  his  way  unquestioned. 

"  Said  not  Sir  Edward  Bruce  he  would  meet  us  hereabouts 
at  set  of  sun  ?"  were  the  first  words '  spoken  by  the  knight,  as, 
on  issuing  from  the  mountains,  they  found  themselves  on  a 
broad  plain  to  the  east  of  Lanark,  bearing  sad  tokens  of  a  de- 
vastating Avar,  in  the  ruined  and  blackened  huts  which  were  the 
only  vestiges  of  human  habitations  near.  The  answer  was  in 
the  affirmative  ;  and  the  knight,  after  glancing  in  the  direction 
of  the  sun,  which  wanted  about  an  hour  to  its  setting,  com- 
manded a  halt,  and  desired  that,  while  waiting  the  arrival  of 
their  comrades,  they  should  take  their  evening  meal. 

On  the  instant  the  joyous  sounds  of  dismounting,  leading 
horses  to  picquet,  unclasping  helmets,  throwing  aside  the  more 
easily  displaced  portions  of  their  armor,  shields,  and  spears, 
took  the  place  of  the  steady  tramp  and  well-ordered  march. 
Flinging  themselves  in  various  attitudes  on  the  greensward, 
provender  was  speedily  laid  before  them,  and  rare  wines  and 
other  choice  liquors,  fruits  of  their  late  campaign,  passed  gayly 
round.  An  esquire  had,  at  the  knight's  sign,  assisted  him  to 
remove  his  helmet,  shield,  and  gauntlets  ;  but  though  this  re- 
moval displayed  a  beautifully  formed  head,  thickly  covered 
with  dark  hair,  his  features  were  still  concealed  by  a  species  of 
black  mask,  the  mouth,  chin,  and  eyes  being  alone  visible,  and 
therefore  his  identity  was  effectually  hidden.  The  mouth  and 
chin  were  both  small  and  delicately  formed  ;  the  slight  appear- 
ance of  beard  and  moustache  seeming  to  denote  his  age  as  some 
one-and-twenty  years.  His  eyes,  glancing  through  the  open- 
ing in  the  mask,  were  large  and  very  dark,  often  flashing 
brightly,  when  his  outward  bearing  was  so  calm  and  quiet  as 
to  afford  little  evidence  of  emotion.  Some  there  were,  indeed, 
who  believed  the  eye  the  truer  index  of  the  man  than  aught 
else  about  him,  and  to  fancy  there  was  far  more  in  that  sad  and 
lonely  knight  than  was  revealed. 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  to  the  men  now  with  him  his 
remaining  so  closely  masked  was  no  subject  of  surprise,  that 
they  regarded  it  as  an  ordinary  thing,  which  in  consequence 
had  lost  its  strangeness.  They  were  eager  and  respectful  in 

15 


338  THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

« 

their  manner  towards  him,  offering  to  raise  him  a  seat  of  turf 
at  some  little  distance  from  their  noisy  comrades ;  but  acknowl- 
edging their  attention  with  kindness  and  courtesy,  he  refused  it, 
and  rousing  himself  with  some  difficulty  from  his  desponding 
thoughts,  threw  himself  on  the  sward  beside  his  men,  and  joined 
in  their  mirth  and  jest.  . 

"  Hast  thou  naught  to  tell  to  while  away  this  tedious  hour, 
good  Murdoch  ?"  he  asked,  after  a  while,  addressing  a  gray- 
headed  veteran. 

"  Aye,  aye,  a  tale,  a  tale ;  thou  hast  seen  more  of  the  Bruce 
than  all  of  us  together,"  repeated  many  eager  voices,  "  and 
knowest  yet  more  of  his  deeds  than  we  do ;  a  tale  an  thou  wilt, 
but  of  no  other  hero  than  the  Bruce." 

"The  Bruce  !"  echoed  the  veteran  ;  "  see  ye  not  his  deeds 
yourselves,  need  ye  more  of  them  ?"  but  there  was  a  sly  twin- 
kle in  his  eye  that  betrayed  his  love  to  speak  was  as  great  as 
his  comrades  to  hear  him.  "  Have  ye  not  heard,  aye,  and 
many  of  you  seen  his  adventures  and  escapes  in  Carrick,  hunt- 
ed even  as  he  was  by  bloodhounds  ;  his  .guarding  that  mount- 
ain pass,  one  man  against  sixty,  aye,  absolutely  alone  against 
the  Galwegian  host  of  men  and  bloodhounds  ;  Glen  Fruin,  Lou- 
dun  Hill,  Aberdeen  ;  the  harrying  of  Buchan ;  charging  the 
treacherous  foe,  when  they  had  to  bear  him  from  his  litter  to 
his  horse,  aye,  and  support  him  there ;  springing  up  from  his 
couch  of  pain,  and  suffering,  and  depression,  agonizing  to  wit- 
ness, to  hurl  vengeance  on  the  fell  traitors  ;  aye,  and  he  did  it, 
and  brought  back  health  to  his  own  heart  and  frame  ;  and  For- 
far,  Lorn,  Dunstaffnage — know  ye  not  all  these  things  ?  Nay, 
have  ye  not  seen,  shared  in  them  all — what  would  ye  more  ?" 

"  The  harrying  of  Buchan,  tell  us  of  that,"  loudly  exclaimed 
many  voices  ;  while  some  others  shouted,  "  the  landing  of  the 
Bruce — tell  us  of  his  landing,  and  the  spirit  fire  at  Turnberry 
Head  ;  the  strange  woman  that  addressed  him." 

"  Now  which  am  I  to  tell,  good  my  masters  ?"  laughingly 
answered  the  old  man,  when  the  tumult  in  a  degree  subsided. 
"  A  part  of  one,  and  part  of  the  other,  and  leave  ye  to  work 
out  the  rest  yourselves ;  truly,  a  pleasant  occupation.  Say, 
shall  it  be  thus  ?  yet  stay,  what  says  Sir  Amiot  ?" 

"  As  you  will,  my  friends,"  answered  the  knight,  cheerily ; 
"  but  decide  quickly,  or  we  shall  hear  neither.  I  am  for  the 
tale  of  Buchan,"  there  was  a  peculiarly  thrilling  emphasis  in  his 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  339 

tone  as  he  pronounced  the  word,  "  for  I  was  not  in  Scotland  at 
the  time,  and  have  heard  but  disjointed  rumors  of  the  expe- 
dition." 

The  veteran  looked  round  on  his  eager  comrades  with  an  air 
of  satisfaction,  then  clearing  his  voice,  and  "drawing  more  to  the 
centre  of  the  group  ;  "  Your  worship  knows,"  he  began,  ad- 
dressing Sir  Amiot,  who,  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  sward, 
had  fixed  his  eyes  upon  him,  though  their  eagle  glance  was 
partly  shaded  by  his  hand,  "  that  our  good  King  Robert  the 
Bruce,  determined  on  the  reduction  of  the  north  of  his  king- 
dom, advanced  thereto  in  the  spring  of  1308,  accompanied  by 
his  brother,  Lord  Edward,  that  right  noble  gentleman  the  Earl 
of  Lennox,  Sir  Gilbert  Hay,  Sir  Robert  Boyd,  and  others,  with 
a  goodly  show  of  men  and  arms,  for  his  successes  at  Glen  Fruin 
and  Loudun  Hill  had  brought  him  a  vast  accession  of  loyal  sub- 
jects. And  they  were  needed,  your  worship,  of  a  truth,  for  the 
traitorous  Comyns  had  almost  entire  possession  of  the  castles 
and  forts  of  the  north,  and  thence  were  wont  to  pour  down 
their  ravaging  hordes  upon  the  true  Scotsmen,  and  menace  the 
king,  till  he  scarcely  knew  which  side  to  turn  to  first.  Your 
worship  coming,  I  have  heard,  from  the  low  country,  can 
scarcely  know  all  the  haunts  and  lurking-places  for  treason  the 
highlands  of  our  country  present ;  how  hordes  of  traitors  may 
be  trained  and  armed  in  these  remote  districts,  without  the 
smallest  suspicion  being  attached  to  them  till  it  is  well-nigh  too 
late,  and  the  mischief  is  done.  Well,  to  drive  out  these  black 
villains,  to  free  his  kingdom,  not  alone  from  the  yoke  of  an  Eng- 
lish Edward,  but  a  Scottish  Comyn,  good  King  Robert  was  re- 
solved— and  even  as  he  resolved  he  did.  Inverness,  the  citadel 
of  treason  and  disloyalty,  fell  before  him ;  her  defences,  and 
walls,  and  turrets,  and  towers,  all  dismantled  and  levelled,  so  as 
to  prevent  all  further  harborage  of  treason ;  her  garrison 
marched  out,  the  ringleaders  sent  into  secure  quarters,  and  all 
who  hastened  to  offer  homage  and  swear  fidelity,  received  with 
a  courtesy  and  majesty  which  I  dare  to  say  did  more  for  the 
cause  of  our  true  king  than  a  Comyn  could  ever  do  against  it. 
Other  castles  followed  the  fate  of  Inverness,  till  at  length  the 
north,  even  as  the  south,  acknowledged  the  Bruce,  not  alone 
as  their  king,  but  as  their  deliverer  and  savior. 

"  It  was  while  rejoicing  over  these  glorious  successes,  the 
lords  and  knights  about  the  person  of  their  sovereign  began  to 


340  THE   DAYS   OF   BEUCE. 

note  with  great  alarm  that  his  strength  seemed  waning,  his 
brow  often  knit  as  with  inward  pain,  his  eye  would  grow  dim, 
and  his  limbs  fail  him,  without  a  moment's  warning  ;  and  that 
extreme  depression  would  steal  over  his  manly  spirit  even  in  the 
very  moment  of  success.  They  watched  in  alarm,  but  silently  ; 
and  when  they  saw  the  renewed  earnestness  and  activity  with 
which,  on  hearing  of  the  approach  of  Comyn  of  Buchan,  Sir 
John  de  Mowbray,  and  that  worst  of  traitors,  his  own  nephew, 
Sir  David  of  Brechin,  he  rallied  his  forces,  advanced  to  meet 
them,  and  compelled  them  to  retreat  confusedly  to  Aberdeen, 
they  hoped  they  had  been  deceived,  and  all  was  well. 

"  But  the  fell  disease  gained  ground  ;  at  first  he  could  not 
guide  his  charger's  reins,  and  then  he  could  not  mount  at  all ; 
his  voice  failed,  his  sight  passed ;  they  were  compelled  to  lay 
him  in  a  litter,  and  bear  him  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  they  felt 
as  if  the  void  left  by  their  sovereign's  absence  from  their  head 
was  filled  with  the  dim  shadow  of  death.  Nobly  and  gallantly 
did  Lord  Edward  endeavor  to  remedy  this  fatal  evil ;  Lennox, 
Hay,  even  the  two  Frasers,  who  had  so  lately  joined  the  king, 
seemed  as  if  paralyzed  by  this  new  grief,  and  hung  over  the 
Bruce's  litter  as  if  their  strength  waned  with  his.  Sternly,  nay, 
at  such  a  moment  it  seemed  almost  harshly,  Lord  Edward  re- 
buked this  weakness,  and,  conducting  them  to  Slenath,  formed 
some  strong  entrenchments,  of  which  the  Bruce's  pavilion  was 
the  centre,  intending  there  to  wait  his  brother's  recovery.  Ah, 
my  masters,  if  ye  were  not  with  good  King  Robert  then,  ye 
have  escaped  the  bitterest  trial.  Ye  know  not  what  it  was  to 
behold  him — the  savior  of  his  country,  the  darling  of  his 
people,  the  noblest  knight  and  bravest  warrior  who  ever  girded 
on  a  sword — lie  there,  so  pale,  so  faint,  with  scarce  a  voice  or 
passing  sigh  to  say  he  breathed.  The  hand  which  grasped  the 
weal  of  Scotland,  the  arm  that  held  her  shield,  lay  nerveless  as 
the  dead  ;  the  brain  which  thought  so  well  and  wisely  for  his 
fettered  land,  lay  powerless  and  still ;  the  thrilling  voice  was 
hushed,  the  flashing  eye  was  closed.  The  foes  were  close 
around  him,  and  true  friends  in  tears  and  woe  beside  his  couch, 
were  all  alike  unknown.  Ah  !  then  was  the  time  for  warrior's 
tears,  for  men  of  iron  frame  and  rugged  mood  to  soften  into 
woman's  woe,  and  weep.  Men  term  Lord  Edward  Bruce  so 
harsh  and  stern,  one  whom  naught  of  grief  for  others  or  him- 
self can  move ;  they  saw  him  not  as  I  have.  It  was  mine  to 


THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE.  341 

watch  my  sovereign,  when  others  sought  their  rest ;  and  I  have 
seen  that  rugged  chieftain  stand  beside  his  brother's  couch 
alone,  unmarked,  and  struggle  with  his  spirit  till  his  brow  hath 
knit,  his  lip  become  convulsed,  and  then  as  if  'twere  vain,  all 
vain,  sink  on  his  knee,  clasp  his  sovereign's  hand,  and  bow  his 
head  and  weep.  Tis  passed  and  over  now,  kind  heaven  be 
praised !  yet  I  cannot  recall  that  scene,  unbind  the  folds  of 
memory,  unmoved." 

The  old  man  passed  his  rough  hand  across  his  eyes,  and  for 
a  brief  moment  paused ;  his  comrades,  themselves  affected, 
sought  not  to  disturb  him,  and  quickly  he  resumed. 

"  Days  passed,  and  still  King  Robert  gave  no  sign  of  amend- 
ment, except,  indeed,  there  were  intervals  when  his  eyes  wan- 
dered to  the  countenances  of  his  leaders,  as  if  he  knew  them, 
and  would  fain  have  addressed  them  as  his  wont.  Then  it  was 
our  men  were  annoyed  by  an  incessant  discharge  from  Buchan's 
archers,  which,  though  they  could  do  perhaps  no  great  evil,  yet 
wounded  many  of  our  men,  and  roused  Lord  Edward's  spirit 
to  resent  the  insult.  His  determination  to  leave  the  entrench- 
ments and  retreat  to  Strathbogie,  appeared  at  first  an  act  of 
such  unparalleled  daring  as  to  startle  all  his  brother  leaders, 
and  they  hesitated ;  but  there  never  was  any  long  resisting  Sir 
Edward's  plans  ;  he  bears  a  spell  no  spirit  with  a  spark  of  gal- 
lantry about  him  can  resist.  The  retreat  was  in  consequence 
determined  on,  to  the  great  glee  of  our  men,  who  were  tired  of 
inaction,  and  imagined  they  should  feel  their  sovereign's  suffer- 
ings less  if  engaged  hand  to  hand  with  the  foe,  in  his  service, 
than  watching  him  as  they  had  lately  done,  and  dreading  yet. 
greater  evils. 

"  Ye  have  heard  of  this  daring  retreat,  my  friends ;  it  was  in 
the  mouth  of  every  Scotsman,  aye,  and  of  Englishman  too,  for 
King  Robert  himself  never  accomplished  a  deed  of  greater  skill. 
The  king's  litter  was  placed  in  the  centre  of  a  square,  which 
presented  on  either  side  such  an  impenetrable  fence  of  spears 
and  shields,  that  though  Buchan  and  De  Mowbray  mustered 
more  than  double  our  number,  they  never  ventured  an  attack, 
and  a  retreat,  apparently  threatening  total  destruction,  from  its 
varied  dangers,  was  accomplished  without  the  loss  of  a  single 
man.  At  Strathbogie  we  halted  but  a  short  space,  for  finding 
no  obstruction  in  our  path,  we  hastened  southward,  in  the  di- 
rection of  Inverury ;  there  we  pitched  the  tent  for  the  king, 


34:2  THE   DAYS   OF   BKUCE. 

and,  taking  advantage  of  a  natural  fortification,  dispersed  our 
men  around  it,  still  in  a  compact  square.  Soon  after  this  had 
been  accomplished,  news  was  received  that  our  foes  were  con- 
centrating their  numerous  forces  at  Old  Meldrum,  scarcely  two 
miles  from  us,  and  consequently  we  must  hold  ourselves  in  con- 
stant readiness  to  receive  their  attack. 

"  Well,  the  news  that  the  enemy  was  so  near  us  might  not 
perhaps  have  been  particularly  pleasing,  had  they  not  been 
more  than  balanced  by  the  conviction — far  more  precious  than 
a  large  reinforcement,  for  in  itself  it  was  a  host — the  king  was 
recovering.  Yes,  scarcely  as  we  dared  hope,  much  less  believe 
it,  the  disease,  which  had  fairly  baffled  all  the  leech's  art,  which 
had  hung  over  our  idolized  monarch  so  long,  at  length  showed 
symptoms  of  giving  way,  and  there  was  as  great  rejoicing  in  the 
camp  as  if  neither  danger  nor  misfortune  could  assail  us  more  ; 
a  new  spirit  sparkled  in  every  eye,  as  if  the  awakening  lustre 
in  the  Bruce's  glance,  the  still  faint,  yet  thrilling  accents  of  a 
voice  we  had  feared  was  hushed  forever,  had  lighted  on  every 
heart,  and  kindled  anew  their  slumbering  fire.  One  day,  Lord 
Edward,  the  Earl  of  Lennox,  and  a  gallant  party,  were  absent 
scouring  the  country  about  half  a  mile  round  our  entrench- 
ments, and  in  consequence,  one  side  of  our  square  w*s  more 
than  usually  open,  but  we  did  not  think  it  signified,  for  there 
were  no  tidings  of  the  enemy ;  well,  this  day  the  king  had 
called  me  to  him,  and  bade  me  relate  the  particulars  of  the  re- 
treat, which  I  was  proud  enough  to  do,  my  masters,  and  which 
of  you  would  not  be,  speaking  as  I  did  with  our  gallant  sov- 
ereign as  friend  with  friend  ?" 

"  Aye,  and  does  he  not  make  us  all  feel  this  ?"  burst  simul- 
taneously from  many  voices  ;  "  does  he  not  speak,  and  treat  us 
all  as  if  we  were  his  friends,  and  not  his  subjects  only  ?  Thine 
was  a  proud  task,  good  Murdoch,  but  which  of  us  has  good 
King  Robert  not  addressed  with  kindly  words  and  proffered 
hand  ?" 

"  Right !  right !"  joyously  responded  the  old  man  ;  "  still 
I  say  that  hour  was  one  of  the  proudest  in  my  life,  and  an 
eventful  one  too  for  Scotland  ere  it  closed.  King  Robert  heard 
me  with  flashing  eye  and  kindling  cheek,  and  his  voice,  as  he 
burst  forth  in  high  praise  and  love  for  his  daring  brother, 
sounded  almost  as  strong  and  thrilling  as  was  its  wonfc  in 
health ;  just  then  a  struggle  was  heard  without  the  tent,  a 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  343 

scuffle,  as  of  a  skirmish,  confused  voices,  clashing  of  weapons, 
and  war-cries.  Up  started  the  king,  with  eagle  glance  and 
eager  tone.  '  My  arras/  he  cried,  '  bring  me  my  arms  !  Ha  ! 
hear  ye  that  ?'  and  sure  enough,  '  St.  David  for  De  Brechin, 
and  down  with  the  Bruce !'  resounded  so  close,  that  it  seemed 
as  if  but  the  curtain  separated  the  traitor  from  his  kinsman  and 
his  king.  Never  saw  I  the  Bruce  so  fearfully  aroused,  the  rage 
of  the  lion  was  upon  him.  '  Hear  ye  that  ?'  he  repeated,  as, 
despite  my  remonstrances,  and  those  of  the  officers  who  rushed 
into  the  tent,  he  sprang  from  the  couch,  and,  with  the  rapidity 
of  light,  assumed  his  long-neglected  armor.  '  The  traitorous 
villain !  would  he  beard  me  to  my  teeth  ?  By  the  heaven 
above  us,  he  shall  rue  this  insolence  !  Bring  me  my  charger. 
Beaten  off,  say  ye  ?  I  doubt  it  not,  my  gallant  friends  ;  but  it 
is  now  the  Brace's  turn,  his  kindred  traitors  are  not  far  off,  and 
we  would  try  their  mettle  now.  Nay,  restrain  me  not,  these 
folk  will  work  a  cure  for  me — there,  I  am  a  man  again !'  and 
as  he  stood  upright,  sheathed  in  his  glittering  mail,  his  drawn 
sword  in  his  gauntleted  hand,  a  wild  shout  of  irrepressible  joy 
burst  from  us  all,  and,  caught  up  by  the  soldiers  without  the 
tent,  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  camp.  The  sudden 
appearance  of  the  Brace's  charger,  caparisoned  for  battle, 
standing  before  his  master's  tent,  the  drums  rolling  for  the 
muster,  the  lightning  speed  with  which  Sir  Edward  Bruce, 
Lennox,  and  Hay,  after  dispersing  De  Brechin's  troop,  as  dust 
on  the  plain,  galloped  to  the  royal  pavilion,  themselves  equally 
at  a  loss  to  understand  the  bustle  there,  all  prepared  the  men- 
at-arms  for  what  was  to  come.  Eagerly  did  the  gallant  knights 
remonstrate  with  their  sovereign,  conjure  him  to  follow  the 
battle  in  his  litter,  rather  than  attempt  to  mount  his  charger  ; 
they  besought  him  to  think  what  his  life,  his  safety  was  to 
them,  and  not  so  rashly  risk  it.  Lord  Edward  did  entreat  him 
to  reserve  his  strength  till  there  was  more  need  ;  the  field  was. 
then  clear,  the  foes  had  not  appeared ;  but  all  in  vain  their  elo- 
quence, the  king  combated  it  all.  'We  will  go  seek  them, 
brother,'  cheerily  answered  the  king ;  '  we  will  go  tell  them 
insult  to  the  Bruce  passes  not  unanswered.  On,  on,  gallant 
knights,  our  men  wax  impatient.'  Hastening  from  the  tent,  he 
stood  one  moment  in  the  sight  of  all  his  men :  removing  his 
helmet,  he  smiled  a  gladsome  greeting.  Oh,  what  a  shout 
rung  forth  from  those  iron  ranks !  There  was  that  noble  face, 


344  THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE. 

pale,  attenuated  indeed,  but  beaming  on  them  in  all  its  wonted 
animation,  confidence,  and  love  ;  there  was  that  majestic  form 
towering  again  in  its  princely  dignity,  seeming  the  nobler  from 
being  so  long  unseen.  Again  and  again  that  shout  arose,  till 
the  wild  birds  rose  screaming  over  our  heads,  in  untuned,  yet 
exciting  chorus.  Nor  did  the  fact  that  the  king,  strengthened 
as  he  was  by  his  own  glorious  soul,  had  in  reality  not  bodily 
force  enough  to  mount  his  horse  without  support,  take  from 
the  enthusiasm  of  his  men,  nay,  it  was  heightened  and  excited 
to  the  wildest  pitch.  '  For  Scotland  and  freedom !'  shouted 
the  king,  as  for  one  moment  he  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  waved 
his  bright  blade  above  his  head.  '  For  Bruce  and  Scotland  !' 
swelled  the  answering  shout.  We  formed,  we  gathered  in 
compact  array  around  our  leaders,  loudly  clashed  our  swords 
against  our  shields ;  we  marched  a  brief  while  slowly  and  ma- 
jestically along  the  plain ;  we  neared  the  foe,  who,  with  its 
multitude  in  terrible  array,  awaited  our  coming ;  we  saw,  we 
hurled  defiance  in  a  shout  which  rent  the  very  air.  Quicker 
and  yet  quicker  we  advanced ;  on,  on — we  scoured  the  dusty 
plain,  we  pressed,  we  flew,  we  rushed  upon  the  foe ;  the  Bruce 
was  at  our  head,  and  with  him  victory.  We  burst  through 
their  ranks ;  we  compelled  them,  at  the  sword's  point,  to  turn 
and  fight  even  to  the  death ;  we  followed  them  foot  to  foot, 
and  hand  to  hand,  disputing  every  inch  of  ground ;  they  sought 
to  retreat,  to  fly — but  no  !  Five  miles  of  Scottish  ground,  five 
good  broad  miles,  was  that  battle-field ;  the  enemy  lay  dead 
in  heaps  upon  the  field,  the  remainder  fled." 

"  And  the  king !"  exclaimed  the  knight  of  the  mask,  half 
springing  up  in  the  excitement  the  old  man's  tale  had  aroused. 
"  How  bore  he  this  day's  wondrous  deed — was  not  his  strength 
exhausted  anew  ?" 

"  Aye,  what  of  the  king  ?"  repeated  many  of  the  soldiers, 
who  had  held  their  very  breath  while  the  veteran  spoke,  and 
clenched  their  swords,  as  if  they  were  joining  in  the  strife  he 
so  energetically  described. 

"  The  king,  my  masters,"  replied  Murdoch,  "  why,  if  it  could 
be,  he  looked  yet  more  the  mighty  warrior  at  the  close  than  at 
the  commencement  of  the  work.  WTe  had  seen  him  the  first  in 
the  charge,  in  the  pursuit ;  we  had  marked  his  white  plume 
waving  above  all  others,  where  the  strife  waxed  hottest ;  and 
when  we  gathered  round  him,  when  the  fight  was  done,  he  was 


THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE.  345 

seated  on  the  ground  in  truth,  and  there  was  the  dew  of  ex- 
treme fatigue  on  his  brow — he  had  flung  aside  his  helmet — 
and  his  cheek  was  hotly  flushed,  and  his  voice,  as  he  thanked 
us  for  our  gallant  conduct,  and  bade  us  return  thanks  to  heav- 
en for  this  great  victory,  was  somewhat  quivering  ;  but  for  all 
that,  my  masters,  he  looked  still  the  warrior  and  the  king,  and 
his  voice  grew  firmer  and  louder  as  he  bade  us  have  no  fears 
for  him.  He  dismissed  us  with  our  hearts  as  full  of  joy  and 
love  for  him  as  of  triumph  on  our  humbled  foes." 

"  No  doubt,"  responded  many  voices  ;  "  but  Buchan,  Mow- 
bray,  De  Brechin — what  came  of  them — were  they  left  on  the 
field  ?" 

"  They  fled,  loving  their  lives  better  than  their  honor  ;  they 
fled,  like  cowards  as  they  were.  The  two  first  slackened  not 
their  speed  till  they  stood  on  English  ground.  De  Brechin,  ye 
know,  held  out  Angus  as  long  as  he  could,  and  was  finally 
made  captive." 

"  Aye,  and  treated  with  far  greater  lenity  than  the  villain 
deserved.  He  will  never  be  a  Randolph." 

"  A  Randolph  !  Not  a  footboy  in  Randolph's  train  but  is 
more  Randolph  than  he.  But  thou  sayest  Buchan  slackened 
not  rein  till  he  reached  English  ground  ;  he  lingered  long  enough 
for  yet  blacker  treachery,  if  rumor  speaks  aright.  Was  it  not 
said  the  king's  life  was  attempted  by  his  orders,  and  by  one  of 
the  Comyn's  own  followers  ?" 

"  Ha  !"  escaped  Sir  Amiot's  lips.  "  Say  they  this  ?"  but 
he  evidently  had  spoken  involuntarily,  for  the  momentary  agita- 
tion which  had  accompanied  the  words  was  instantly  and  forci- 
bly suppressed. 

"  Aye,  your  worship,  and  it  is  true,"  replied  the  veteran. 
"  It  was  two  nights  after  the  battle.  All  the  camp  was  at 
rest ;  I  was  occupied  as  usual,  by  my  honored  watch  in  my 
sovereign's  tent.  The  king  was  sleeping  soundly,  and  a  strange 
drowsiness  appeared  creeping  over  me  too,  confusing  all  my 
thoughts.  At  first  I  imagined  the  wind  was  agitating  a  certain 
corner  of  the  tent,  and  my  eyes,  half  asleep  and  half  wakeful, 
became  fascinated  upon  it ;  presently,  what  seemed  a  bale  of 
carpets,  only  doubled  up  in  an  extraordinary  small  space,  ap- 
peared within  the  drapery.  It  moved;  my  senses  were  in- 
stantly aroused.  Slowly  and  cautiously  the  bale  grew  taller, 
then  the  unfolding  carpet  fell,  and  a  short,  well-knit,  muscular 

15* 


346  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

form  appeared.  He  was  clothed  in  those  padded  jerkins  and 
hose,  plaited  with  steel,  which  are  usual  to  those  of  his  rank  ; 
the  steel,  however,  this  night  was  covered  with  thin,  black 
stuff,  evidently  to  assist  concealment.  He  looked  cautiously 
around  him.  I  had  creeped  noiselessly,  and  on  all  fours,  with- 
in the  shadow  of  the  king's  couch,  where  I  could  observe  the 
villain's  movements  myself  unseen.  I  saw  a  gleam  of  triumph 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  so  sure  he  seemed  of  his  intended  victim. 
He  advanced  ;  his  dagger  flashed  above  the  Bruce.  With  one 
bound,  one  shout,  I  sprang  on  the  murderous  wretch,  wrenched 
the  dagger  from  his  grasp,  and  dashed  him  to  the  earth.  He 
struggled,  but  in  vain  ;  the  king  started  from  that  deep  slum- 
ber, one  moment  gazed  around  him  bewildered,  the  next  was 
on  his  feet,  and  by  my  side.  The  soldiers  rushed  into  the  tent, 
and  confusion  for  the  moment  waxed  loud  and  warm  ;  but  the 
king  quelled  it  with  a  word.  The  villain  was  raised,  pinioned, 
brought  before  the  Bruce,  who  sternly  demanded  what  was  his 
intent,  and  who  was  his  employer.  Awhile  the  miscreant 
paused,  but  then,  as  if  spell-bound  by  the  flashing  orb  upon 
him,  confessed  the  whole,  aye,  and  more ;  that  his  master,  the 
Earl  of  Buchan,  had  sworn  a  deep  and  deadly  oath  to  relax 
not  in  his  hot  pursuit  till  the  life-blood  of  the  Bruce  had 
avenged  the  death  of  the  Red  Comyn,  and  that,  though  he 
had  escaped  now,  he  must  fall  at  length,  for  the  whole  race  of 
Comyn  had  joined  hands  upon  their  chieftain's  oath.  The 
brow  of  the  king  grew  dark,  terrible  wrath  beamed  from  his 
eyes,  and  it  seemed  for  the  moment  as  if  he  would  deliver  up 
the  murderous  villain  into  the  hands  that  yearned  to  tear  him 
piecemeal.  There  was  a  struggle,  brief  yet  terrible,  then  he 
spoke,  and  calmly,  yet  with  a  bitter  stinging  scorn. 

"'And  this  is  Buchan's  oath,'  he  said.  '  Ha!  doth  he  not 
bravely,  my  friends,  to  fly  the  battle-field,  to  shun  us  there, 
that  hireling  hands  may  do  a  deed  he  dares  not  ?  For  this 
poor  fool,  what  shall  we  do  with  him  ?' 

"  '  Death,  death — torture  and  death  !  what  else  befits  the 
sacrilegious  traitor  ?'  burst  from  many  voices,  pressing  forward 
to  seize  and  bear  him  from  the  tent ;  but  the  king  signed  them 
to  forbear,  and  oh,  what  a  smile  took  the  place  of  his  previous 
scorn ! 

"  '  And  I  say  neither  torture  nor  death,  my  friends,'  he 
cried.  '  What,  are  we  sunk  so  low,  as  to  revenge  this  insult 


THE   DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  347 

on  a  mere  tool,  the  instrument  of  a  villainous  master  ?  No, 
no !  let  him  go  free,  and  tell  his  lord  how  little  the  Bruce 
heeds  him  ;  that  guarded  as  he  is  by  a  free  people's  love,  "were 
the  race  of  Comyn  as  powerful  and  numerous  as  England's 
self,  their  oath  would  avail  them  nothing.  Let  the  poor  fool 
go  free !' 

"  A  deep,  wild  murmur  ran  through  the  now  crowded  tent, 
and  so  mingled  were  the  tones  of  applause  and  execration,  we 
knew  not  which  the  most  prevailed. 

"  '  And  shall  there  be  no  vengeance  for  this  dastard  deed  ?' 
at  length  the  deep,  full  voice  of  Lord  Edward  Bruce  arose, 
distinct  above  the  rest.  '  Shall  the  Bruce  sit  tamely  down  to 
await  the  working  of  the  villain  oath,  and  bid  its  tools  go  free, 
filling  the  whole  land  with  well-trained  murderers?  Shall 
Buchan  pass  scathless,  to  weave  yet  darker,  more  atrocious 
schemes  ?' 

"  '  Brother,  no,'  frankly  rejoined  the  king.  '  We  will  make 
free  to  go  and  visit  our  friends  in  Buchan,  and  there,  an  thou 
wilt,  thou  shalt  pay  them  in  coin  for  their  kindly  intents  and 
deeds  towards  us  ;  but  for  this  poor  fool,  again  I  say,  let  him 
go  free.  Misery  and  death,  God  wot,  we  are  compelled  to  for 
our  country's  sake,  let  us  spare  where  but  our  own  person  is 
endangered.' 

"  And  they  let  him  free,  my  masters,  unwise  as  it  seemed  to 
us  ;  none  could  gainsay  our  sovereign's  words.  Sullen  to  the 
last,  the  only  symptom  of  gratitude  he  vouchsafed  was  to  mut- 
ter forth,  in  answer  to  the  Bruce's  warning  words  to  hie  him 
to  his  comrades  in  Buchan,  and  bid  them,  an  they  feared  fire 
and  devastation,  to  fly  without  delay,  '  Aye,  only  thus  mayest 
thou  hope  to  exterminate  the  traitors ;  pity  none,  spare  none. 
The  whole  district  of  Buchan  is  peopled  by  the  Comyn,  bound 
by  this  oath  of  blood,'  and  thus  he  departed." 

"  And  spoke  he  truth  ?"  demanded  Sir  Amiot,  hoarsely,  and 
with  an  agitation  that,  had  others  more  suspicious  been  with 
him,  must  have  been  remarked,  although  forcibly  and  painfully 
suppressed  ;  "  spoke  he  truth  ?  Methought  the  district  of 
Buchan  had  only  within  the  last  century  belonged  to  the  Co- 
myn, and  that  the  descendants  of  the  Countess  Margaret's 
vassals  still  kept  apart,  loving  not  the  intermixture  of  another 
clan.  Said  they  not  it  was  on  this  account  the  Countess  of 
Buchan  had  exercised  such  influence,  and  herself  headed  a  gal- 


34:8  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

lant  troop  at  the  first  rising  of  the  Bruce  ?  an  the  villain  spoke 
truth,  whence  came  this  change  ?" 

"  Why,  for  that  matter,  your  worship,  it  is  easy  enough  ex- 
plained," answered  Murdoch,  "  and,  trust  me,  King  Robert  set 
inquiries  enough  afloat  ere  he  commenced  his  scheme  of  retalia- 
tion. Had  there  been  one  of  the  Lady  Isabella's  own  followers 
there,  one  who,  in  her  name,  claimed  his  protection,  he  would 
have  given  it ;  not  a  hair  of  their  heads  would  have  been  in- 
jured ;  but  there  were  none  of  these,  your  worship.  The  few 
of  the  original  clan  which  had  not  joined  him  were  scattered 
all  over  the  country,  mingling  wtth  other  loyal  clans ;  their 
own  master  had  hunted  them  away,  when  he  came  down  to 
his  own  districts,  just  before  the  capture  of  his  wife  and  son. 
He  filled  the  Tower  of  Buchan  with  his  own  creatures,  scat- 
tered the  Comyns  all  over  the  land,  with  express  commands  to 
attack,  hunt,  or  resist  all  of  the  name  of  Bruce  to  the  last  ebb 
of  their  existence.  He  left  amongst  them  officers  and  knights 
as  traitorous,  and  spirits  well-nigh  as  evil  as  his  own,  and  they 
obeyed  him  to  the  letter,  for  amongst  the  most  inveterate,  the 
most  treacherous,  and  most  dishonorable  persecutors  of  the 
Bruce  stood  first  and  foremost  the  Comyns  of  Buchan.  Ah  ! 
the  land  was  changed  from  the  time  when  the  noble  countess 
held  sway  there,  and  so  they  felt  to  their  cost. 

"  It  was  a  grand  yet  fearful  sight,  those  low  hanging  woods 
and  glens  all  in  one  flame ;  the  spring  had  been  particularly 
dry  and  windy,  and  the  branches  caught  almost  with  a  spark, 
and  crackled  and  sparkled,  and  blazed,  and  roared,  till  for  miles 
round  we  could  see  and  hear  the  work  of  devastation.  Aye, 
the  coward  earl  little  knew  what  was  passing  in  his  territories, 
while  he  congratulated  himself  on  his  safe  flight  into  England. 
It  was  a  just  vengeance,  a  deserved  though  terrible  retaliation, 
and  the  king  felt  it  as  such,  my  masters.  He  had  borne  with 
the  villains  as  long  as  he  could,  and  would  have  borne  with 
them  still,  had  he  not  truly  felt  nothing  would  quench  their 
enmity,  and  in  consequence  secure  Scotland's  peace  and  safety, 
but  their  utter  extermination,  and  all  the  time  he  regretted  it, 
I  know,  for  there  was  a  terrible  look  of  sternness  and  deter- 
mination about  him  while  the  work  lasted ;  he  never  relaxed 
into  a  smile,  he  never  uttered  a  jovial  word,  and  we  followed 
him,  our  own  wild  spirits  awed  into  unwonted  silence.  There 
was  not  a  vestige  of  natural  or  human  life  in  the  district — all 


THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE.  349 

was  one  mass  of  black,  discolored  ashes,  utter  ruin  and  appall- 
ing devastation.  Not  a  tower  of  Buchan  remains." 

"  All — sayest  thou  all  ?"  said  Sir  Amiot,  suddenly,  yet  slow- 
ly, and  with  difficulty.  "  Left  not  the  Bruce  one  to  bear  his 
standard,  and  thus  mark  his  power?" 

"  Has  not  your  worship  remarked  that  such  is  never  the 
Bruce's  policy  ?  Three  years  ago,  he  had  not  force  enough 
to  fortify  the  castles  he  took  from  the  English,  and  leaving 
them  standing  did  but  offer  safe  harbors  for  the  foe,  so  it  was 
ever  his  custom  to  dismantle,  as  utterly  to  prevent  their  re- 
establishment  ;  and  if  he  did  this  with  the  castles  of  his  own 
friends,  who  all,  as  the  Douglas  saith,  '  love  better  to  hear  the 
lark  sing  than  the  mouse  squeak,'  it  was  not  likely  he  would 
spare  Buchan's.  But  there  was  one  castle,  I  remember,  cost 
him  a  bitter  struggle  to  demolish.  It  was  the  central  fortress 
of  the  district,  distinguished,  I  believe,  by  the  name  of  '  the 
Tower  of  Buchan,'  and  had  been  the  residence  of  that  right 
noble  lady,  the  Countess  Isabella  and  her  children.  Nay,  from 
what  I  overheard  his  grace  say  to  Lord  Edward,  it  had  formerly 
given  him  shelter  and  right  noble  hospitality,  and  a  dearer,  more 
precious  remembrance  still  to  his  noble  heart — it  had  been  for 
many  months  the  happy  home  of  his  brother,  Sir  Nigel,  and 
we  know  what  magic  power  all  associated  with  him  has  upon 
the  king  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  expostulations  of  Lord 
Edward,  his  roygh  yet  earnest  entreaty,  methinks  that  fortress 
had  been  standing  yet.  That  sternness,  terrible  to  behold,  for 
it  ever  tells  of  some  mighty  inward  passions  conquered,  again 
gathered  on  our  sovereign's  brow,  but  he  turned  his  charger's 
head,  and  left  to  Lord  Edward  the  destruction  of  the  fortress, 
and  he  made  quick  work  of  it ;  you  will  scarce  find  two  stones 
together  of  its  walls." 

"  He  counselled  right,"  echoed  many  voices,  the  eagerness 
with  which  they  had  listened,  and  now  spoke,  effectually  turn- 
ing their  attention  from  their  mysterious  leader,  who  at  old 
Murdoch's  last  words  had  with  difficulty  prevented  the  utter- 
ance of  a  deep  groan,  and  then,  as  if  startled  at  his  own  emo- 
tion, sprung  up  from  his  reclining  posture,  and  joined  his  voice 
to  those  of  his  men.  "  He  counselled,  and  did  rightly,"  they 
repeated  ;  "it  would  have  been  an  ill  deed  to  spare  a  traitor's 
den  for  such  softening  thoughts.  Could  we  but  free  the 
Countess  Isabella,  she  would  not  want  a  home  in  Buchan — 


350  THE   DAYS   OF  BKUCE. 

nay,  the  further  from  her  cruel  husband's  territories  the  better ; 
and  for  her  children — the  one,  poor  innocent,  is  cared  for,  and 
the  other — " 

"  Aye,  my  masters,  and  trust  me,  that  other  was  in  our  sov- 
ereign's heart  as  forcibly  as  the  memories  he  spoke.  That 
which  we  know  now  concerning  him  was  then  undreamed  of ; 
it  was  only  faintly  rumored  that  Lord  Douglas  had  been  de- 
ceived, and  Alan  of  Buchan  had  not  fallen  by  a  father's  hand, 
or  at  least  by  his  orders  ;  that  he  was  in  life,  in  close  confine- 
ment ;  my  old  ears  did  catch  something  of  this  import  from 
the  king,  as  he  spoke  with  his  brother." 

"  What  import  ?"  asked  Sir  Amiot,  hoarsely. 

"  Only,  your  worship,  that,  for  the  sake  of  the  young  heir  of 
Buchan,  he  wished  that  such  total  devastation  could  have  been 
spared  ;  if  he  were  really  in  life,  as  rumor  said,  it  was  hard  to 
act  as  if  he  were  forgotten  by  his  friends." 

"  And  what  was  Sir  Edward's  reply  ?" 

"  First,  that  he  doubted  the  rumor  altogether ;  secondly,  that 
if  he  did  return  to  the  king,  his  loss  might  be  more  than  made 
up  ;  and  thirdly,  that  it  was  more  than  probable  that,  young 
as  he  was,  if  he  really  did  live,  the  arts  of  his  father  would 
prevail,  and  he  would  purchase  his  freedom  by  homage  and 
fidelity  to  England." 

"  Ha !  said  he  so — and  the  king  ?" 

"  Did  not  then  think  with  him,  nay,  declared  he  would  stake 
his  right  hand  that  the  boy,  young  as  he  was,  had  too  much 
of  his  mother's  noble  spirit  for  such  a  deed.  It  was  well  the 
stake  was  not  accepted,  for,  by  St.  Andrew,  as  the  tale  now 
goes,  King  Robert  would  have  lost." 

"  As  the  tale  now  goes,  thou  unbelieving  skeptic,"  replied 
one  of  his  comrades,  laughing ;  "  has  not  the  gallant  been 
seen,  recognized — is  he  not  known  as  one  of  King  Edward's 
minions,  and  lords  it  bravely  ?  But  hark !  there  are  chargers 
pricking  over  the  plain.  Hurrah !  Sir  Edward  and  Lord 
James,"  and  on  came  a  large  body  of  troopers  and  infantry 
even  as  he  spoke. 

Up  started  Sir  Amiot's  men  in  eager  readiness  to  greet  and 
join ;  their  armor  and  weapons  they  had  laid  aside  were  re- 
sumed, and  ere  their  comrades  reached  them  all  were  in  read- 
iness. Sir  Amiot,  attended  by  his  esquires  and  a  page,  gal- 
loped forward,  and  the  two  knights,  perceiving  his  advance, 


THE  DAYS   OF  BRUCE.  351 

spurred  on  before  their  men,  and  hasty  and  cordial  greetings 
were  exchanged.  We  should  perhaps  note  that  Sir  Amiot's 
manner  slightly  differed  in  his  salutation  of  the  two  knights. 
To  Lord  Edward  Bruce  he  was  eager,  frank,  cordial,  as  that 
knight  himself;  to  the  other,  whom  one  glance  proclaimed  as 
the  renowned  James  Lord  Douglas,  there  was  an  appearance 
of  pride  or  reserve,  and  it  seemed  an  effort  to  speak  with  him 
at  all.  Douglas  perhaps  did  not  perceive  this,  or  was  accus- 
tomed to  it,  for  it  seemed  to  affect  him  little  ;  and  Lord  Ed- 
ward's bluff  address  prevented  all  manifestation  of  difference 
between  his  colleagues,  even  if  there  existed  any. 

"  Ready  to  mount  and  ride  ;  why  that's  well,"  he  cried. 
"  We  are  beyond  our  time,  but  it  is  little  reck,  we  need  but 
spur  the  faster,  which  our  men  seem  all  inclined  to  do.  What 
news  ?  why,  none  since  we  parted,  save  that  his  grace  has  re- 
solved on  the  siege  of  Perth  without  further  delay." 

"  Nay,  but  that  is  news,  so  please  you,"  replied  Sir  Amiot. 
"When  I  parted  from  his  grace,  there  was  no  talk  of  it." 

"  There  was  talk  of  it,  but  no  certainty  ;  for  our  royal  broth- 
er kept  his  own  counsel,  and  spoke  not  of  this  much-desired 
event  till  his  way  lay  clear  before  him.  There  have  been 
some  turbulent  spirits  in  the  camp — your  humble  servant,  this 
black  lord,  and  Randolph  amongst  them — who  in  truth  con- 
spired to  let  his  grace  know  no  peace  by  night  or  day  till  this 
object  was  attained  ;  but  our  prudent  monarch  gave  us  little 
heed  till  his  wiser  brain  arranged  the  matters  we  but  burned 
to  execute." 

"  And  what,  think  you,  fixed  this  resolve  ?" 

"  Simply  that  for  a  time  we  are  clear  of  English  thieves  and 
Norman  rogues,  and  can  march  northward,  and  sit  down  before 
Perth  without  fear  of  being  called  southward  again.  Edward 
will  have  enow  on  his  hands  to  keep  his  own  frontiers  from  in- 
vasion ;  'twill  be  some  time  ere  he  see  the  extent  of  our  ven- 
geance, and  meanwhile  our  drift  is  gained." 

"  Aye,  it  were  a  sin  and  crying  shame  to  let  Perth  remain 
longer  in  English  hands,"  rejoined  Douglas ;  "  strongly  garri- 
soned it  may  be  ;  but  what  matter  ?" 

"  What  matter !  why,  'tis  great  matter,"  replied  Sir  Edward, 
joyously.  "  What  glory  were  it  to  sit  down  before  a  place  and 
take  it  at  first  charge  ?  No,  give  me  good  fighting,  tough  as- 
sault, and  brave  defence.  Think  you  I  would  have  so  urged 


352  THE   DAYS   OF   BRUCE. 

the  king,  did  I  not  scent  a  glorious  straggle  before  the  walls  ? 
Strongly  garrisoned !  I  would  not  give  one  link  of  this  gold 
chain  for  it,  were  it  not.  But  a  truce  to  this  idle  parley ;  we 
must  make  some  miles  ere  nightfall.  Sir  Knight  of  the  Branch, 
do  your  men  need  further  rest  ?  if  not,  give  the  word,  and  let 
them  fall  in  with  their  comrades,  and  on." 

"  Whither  ?"  demanded  Sir  Amiot,  as  he  gave  the  required 
orders.  "  Where  meet  we  the  king  ?" 

"  In  the  Glen  of  Auchterader,  south  of  the  Erne.  Lady 
Campbell  and  Isoline  await  us  there,  with  the  troops  left  as 
their  guard  at  Dumbarton.  So  you  perceive  our  friend  Lord 
Douglas  here  hath  double  cause  to  use  the  spur ;  times  like 
these  afford  little  leisure  for  wooing,  and  such  love-stricken 
gallants  as  himself  must  e'en  make  the  most  of  them." 

"  And  trust  me  for  doing  so,"  laughingly  rejoined  Douglas. 
"  Scoff  at  me  as  you  will,  Edward,  your  time  will  come." 

"  Not  it,"  answered  the  warrior  ;  "  glory  is  my  mistress.  I 
love  better  to  clasp  my  true  steel  than  the  softest  and  fairest 
hand  in  Christendom ;  to  caress  my  noble  steed  and  twine  my 
hand  thus  in  his  flowing  mane,  and  feel  that  he  bears  me  gal- 
lantly and  proudly  wherever  my  spirit  lists,  than  to  press  sweet 
kisses  on  a  rosy  lip,  imprisoned  by  a  woman's  smile." 

"  Nay,  shame  on  thee  !"  replied  Douglas,  still  jestingly. 
"  Thou  a  true  knight,  and  speak  thus ;  were  there  not  other 
work  to  do,  I  would  e'en  run  a  tilt  with  thee,  to  compel  thee 
to  forswear  thy  foul  treason  against  the  fair." 

"  Better  spend  thy  leisure  in  wooing  Isoline  ;  trust  me,  she 
will  not  be  won  ere  wooed.  How  now,  Sir  Knight  of  the 
Branch,  has  the  fiend  melancholy  taken  possession  of  thee 
again  ?  give  her  a  thrust  with  thy  lance,  good  friend,  and  un- 
seat her.  Come,  soul  of  fire  as  thou  art  in  battle,  why  dost 
thou  mope  in  ashes  in  peace  ?  Thou  speakest  neither  for 
nor  against  these  matters  of  love  ;  wilt  woo  or  scorn  the  little 
god?" 

"Perchance  both,  perchance  neither,"  replied  the  knight, 
and  his  voice  sounded  sadly,  though  he  evidently  sought  to 
speak  in  jest.  He  had  fallen  back  from  the  side  of  Douglas 
during  the  previous  conversation,  but  the  flashing  eye  denoted 
that  it  had  passed  not  unremarked.  He  now  rode  up  to  the 
side  of  Lord  Edward,  keeping  a  good  spear's  length  from  Lord 
James,  and  their  converse  turning  on  martial  subjects,  became 


THE   DATS   OF   BRUCE.  353 

more  general.  Their  march  being  performed  without  any  in- 
cident ofk  note,  we  will,  instead  of  following  them,  take  a  brief 
retrospective  glance  on  those  historical  events  which  had  so 
completely  and  gloriously  turned  the  fate  of  Scotland  and  her 
patriots,  in  those  five  years  which  the  thread  of  our  narrative 
compels  us  to  leave  a  blank. 


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